Dead!
by Kovukono
Summary: Nafsi is told he's dead. Unfortunately for him, the gods can't quite decide where he belongs.
1. The End

"What was that?" Pawsteps.

"It's—a cub?"

"How—?"

"That bitch . . ."

"You don't think she'd actually start on _cubs_, do you?"

"She did us. She tried to kill all of us. You really think she'd care about some cubs? She probably thinks that if she raises them, they'll be loyal."

"Then why is he here?"

"What's your name?"

"Can't you see he has no idea . . . He's _fading_."

"Oh, of course. They want to save _him_."


	2. Arrival of the Delegates

**A/N: All characters in this story are mine and are not to be used without my permission, with the exception of Aiheu and Roh'kash, who belong to John Burkitt and David Morris, and Scar, Zira, Sarabi, Mufasa, Sarafina, Simba, Nala, Kovu, and Kiara, who are copyrighted to Disney. The Heaven/Hell/Purgatory system is mine, too. It is suggested that you read my TLK V before this.**

oOo

Dead!

"How's time?" The words were hazy, distorted. But he knew those were the words.

"It's stopped."

O

"You're sure we have all of it? It would be a mess if we were to end up with a bit missing. Like the pound of flesh closest to his heart."

"We think it's all there." A third voice. And darkness. He could feel nothing.

"Alright then." First voice. "Let's get started."

O

"Sir."

"What?"

"Thought you might find this amusing."

"Is—is that the heart?"

"Yes, sir."

Chuckling. "I'll be. A black heart. So much for imagery."

"Yes, sir. I'm going to put it in now."

O

"How's the mind?" More voices.

"We're working. It's . . . complex." More voices.

O

"They manage to put the whole world together, but they can't piece together this. I can't believe this." So difficult to make out.

"It's detail work. They can't just snap him back together. Look at the mess of how we collected him." Voices, voices. So hazy. And such long pauses between the little conversations.

O

"That should just about do it for the body. Muscle tissues there. Skeletal framework's there. Mixing . . ."

"Stop." The first voice. Authoritative, commanding.

"Sir?"

"Fur. The pelt."

"Here, sir. It's a bit of a rush-job. Might be a few hairs out of place."

"It's . . . wrong."

"How, sir."

"I'm not sure . . . Maybe the arch. I wish we had an omniscio."

"Can't risk it, sir."

"I know."

O

"How's time?"

"Still stopped."

"Completely stopped. It's a first."

"This is a first. Hey, how's the mind?" No longer the first voice. Less distorted than it, but still hazy.

"It's coming. Nearly there. It's so _complex_. It was bad enough putting together that brain, but this . . . I'd almost swear he was conscious."

O

"It's flipped."

"Sir?"

"It's flipped. It's all flipped. The body is the mirror opposite of what it should be."

"Well, I'll be . . . I think . . . Yes, this is there, and that's here. Thank you, sir."

O

"I'm mixing organs and bones. . . . Adding muscle. . . . And now the pelt. . . ."

A sigh of relief came from multiple voices.

"The bonds," snapped the first voice. "Now."

"Yessir. It's done."

O

"How's time?"

"Still stopped."

O

"How's the mind?"

"We're sifting through now. Trying to get a set timeframe. It's rearranging itself. But it's . . . illogical."

"The _mind_ is doing that?"

"Yessir."

"Is that—normal?"

"Sir, we're just as much of an idiot as you when it comes to this. No offense, sir."

"None taken."

O

"What if we put in the brain?"

"Put it in?"

"Yes. You could still work on the mind, right?"

"I'm . . . not sure. Most likely. It might even help. Give the mind a comfortable place, you know."

"Alright. Putting it in . . ."

"Careful." Less distorted.

"Easy." Still less.

Breathing. Heavy breathing. Stress-filled breathing.

And feeling.

Feeling. The feeling in his body. His body. His. His. His.

He?

I.

Me.

My mind.

My self.

My consciousness.

Name. Nafsi. Nafsi. Me.

"It's in. Connecting nerves." Barely hazy.

Pain!

"What was that?"

"He's moving."

"Time?" Panicked.

"Still stopped." Alarmed.

"It isn't right!"

Pain!!

"He's unconscious!"

"It's coming together! The mind is completely rearranging itself! No logical pattern! Oh, gods, what did we _do?_"

Straining to move. Pinned. Pinned by something. My legs will not move. And so much pain! If only I was free . . .

"I can't stop it! The mind is completely out of control! No logic at all!'

"It's logical to him." A faint whisper from the first voice.

"Is he . . . are the bonds _straining?_"

Pain!!!

Nafsi yelled as he gave a massive heave. His legs snapped free. He turned onto his stomach, standing up.

"He's loose!"

"Those bonds were triple-sealed!"

Nafsi took steps backward from the voices. He couldn't see their owners. He suddenly fell, falling only a few feet. "What—what are you doing? What's happening?" He walked into a leg.

"Sir, calm down."

"What's going on?!"

"Sir—" The leg tried to wrap around him, grabbing him. Nafsi lashed out at it with his claws, not seeing the claws extended by black matter, slicing through the leg around him. He didn't see the leg's owner recoil in pain, screaming.

"My leg! Oh, gods my leg! Aiheu! Aiheu! AHHH! Oh, my leg! Oh, Aiheu!"

"Nafsi!" It was the first voice. "Nafsi, listen to me."

"What's happening?" Nafsi said. "Where are you?" An endless black abyss.

"Nafsi, listen to my voice. Listen. Who am I?"

"A—Aka? Akasare?"

"You're dead, Nafsi. Dead."

"I—I'm dead?"

"Yes. You've died. We're saving you."

"I can't see. I can't see anything."

"They haven't attached your brain to your eyes yet."

"They what?"

"Nafsi, listen to me. Trust me. We need to finish this operation. We need to finish the rebuilding."

"The what?"

"Just let me pick you up and put you back on the table. We need to reapply the bonds. They're for your own good."

"I don't understand."

"I'll explain. But we need to finish this first."

"Aka—Aka, I think I'm scared."

"It wouldn't surprise me. Please, Nafsi. We want to finish. It will be better. Just let me pick you up."

"Okay." He felt himself being lifted by the scruff of the neck, then set down on his back. His legs were pushed above his head and below his posterior. He couldn't move them again.

"Don't struggle." A pause. "Close your eyes, too."

"How's time?" asked a voice.

"Mercifully stopped."

"Aka—"

"Quiet, Nafsi. Patience. Proceed."

"Yessir."

"The mind?"

"It's done. Must have been completed some time when we weren't looking. It's all inside."

"Connecting the last of his nerves."

"The killswitch," said Aka.

"Sir, I really think we shouldn't—"

"No. We shouldn't. But I guarantee that we'll want it later. That he'll want it."

"Sir, I'm going to have to respectfully disobey—"

"Don't give me that."

"Sir, it's a killswitch. If anyone found out—"

"Then we won't tell anyone."

"Sir, I'm with her. We were told explicitly to put him back together exactly the way he was. The orders came from the gods them—"

"I know the orders; I was the one who brought up the issue. Now put in that killswitch."

"Sir, they're right. And a killswitch . . . that's utterly tyrannical. A killswitch is completely distrustful, and it violates every ethical standard I know of—"

"Yes. Preach ethics to him."

"Sir, we refuse to put in the killswitch. He'd never need one."

"And if he lives?"

"Sir, that never happens. Not to anyone."

"A lot of things are happening now that never happened."

"Sir, we refuse. We're decided."

"It would be _merciful_."

"It would be leverage we shouldn't have. No, sir."

"Fine." Bitter, angry. "Fine! Leave! Get out! The job is finished!"

"Yessir. . . . Sir, we'll have to report this behavior to the gods."

"Go ahead." A pause. "Azl, stay."

"Yessir."

A long pause. "Nafsi," said Aka gently, "you can open your eyes."

Nafsi did so. He thought they still didn't work. He saw complete white. He turned onto his stomach, his legs free. "Aka?"

"Over here."

Nafsi turned to see Akasare sitting, a golden aura around him. And at his side was a—thing. A mishmash of animals. The creature had the head of a leopard, then the mane and forelegs of a lion, the forelegs connected to a cheetah's body, with the hind legs of some striped animal, the stripes continuing down the tail. The creature stared at Nafsi, not knowing what to make of him.

"Aka," asked Nafsi, "what's that?"

"That's Azl. A malaiki. One of several that were in here." Akasare shot Azl a look. Azl just cocked his head to the side slightly, as if to say, _What was I supposed to do?_ "And they're very, _very_ stubborn."

Azl smiled.

"Aka—"

"Nafsi, I'm not Akasare. I'm Taraju. Or did he ever tell you about me?"

"But he said you were trapped. For good."

"And I nearly was." He stared at Nafsi uncertainly. "Nafsi, I may not be Akasare, but I still want you to trust me."

"Why did you say you were Aka?"

"Would you have gotten back on that table any other way?"

Nafsi looked down at what he was standing on. It was a large pedestal, a white pedestal, barely distinguishable from the absolute white of the place he was in. He continued to look around.

"I just want to help you, Nafsi." There was a large pool of blood on the floor, a leg in the center of it. "I want to be your friend, Nafsi. I already asked you once. About a year and a half ago. I don't know if you remember—"

"I remember everything. Everything." He turned around to look at Taraju and Azl.

"Everything?" asked Taraju, a slight note of skepticism in his voice.

"Everything. Since the day I was born." He cast a quick glance around the place again. "Where am I?"

"Just a room, sir," said Azl. "They put your pieces in here. It was a mess putting you back together."

"My—pieces?"

"You—well . . ." Taraju looked at Azl for an explanation.

"You died differently, sir," said Azl. "Most animals just come, all as one. You came to us in a million little pieces. We had to stop time to get all of them before they were gone forever. We had to keep it stopped while we put you together. I assume you wouldn't like to be torn apart, sir?" asked Azl, grinning. "Again?"

"Time stopped?" asked Nafsi.

"Yes," said Taraju.

"Then how can we be talking?"

"Living time, Nafsi. You're dead now. Time never slows down here. Just for those who're alive."

"Dead," said Nafsi quietly. Completely dead. He remembered destroying the pool, or rather, the pool flowing into him. Was that how it would have ended anyway? Maybe he couldn't control all of that evil, and it had killed him. Or maybe he couldn't have all of that power in that little body. He felt stronger than he ever had before; the pain that the pool had flooded him with now coursed through him, pain no longer, but vast, untapped power. It felt wonderful.

He decided that must have been it, that his body had shattered due to the sudden influx of power; you could only stuff so much into a container before it broke. But they had put him back now, and had unknowingly given him the capacity to hold it.

His mind flicked through the line of reasoning, his intelligence having not suffered at all from death. _Dead_. Everything would be different now. Would he even grow up? Or was he stuck in his body, complete with intelligence and power that far outstripped it?

"How long have I been dead?"

"About—what, three, four days, Azl?"

"Yes, sir. On our time. An hour in the land of the living."

Nafsi stared at the ground. "I didn't mean to die . . ." It had been so painful. His body falling apart into little pieces, the churning of his insides as the pool tried to house itself . . .

"Not too many animals do, sir," said Azl with a smile.

"Nafsi—" began Taraju.

"Will I grow up now?"

"Well, I suppose you could if you wanted. It's what most cubs do after they die."

Nafsi blinked. Was he a cub anymore? Nearly four years had gone by. Was he judged by his body or his mind? Even his mind had never been a cub's. He had never been considered a normal cub by any stretch of the imagination.

He looked up at Taraju and Azl, finally tearing his gaze from the surface of the pedestal. "Will it—hurt?"

"Sir?"

"Growing up. I've always been told how painful it would be."

"Nafsi, I . . . I really don't know if you'll grow up like you were—built to," said Taraju. "We don't know that much about you."

"Then what are you going to do to me?" A thought struck him. "Will I go to Hell?"

"I hope not, Nafsi. I really hope not."

"What do you mean?"

Taraju paused before answering. "I can tell you later. But I need to take you to your family now."

Nafsi was confused. There were so many things that he didn't understand here. Questions didn't seem to get him any further. This Taraju seemed to know so little. _If he wanted to help, he could give me information_. And he had lied to Nafsi. He had said he was someone he wasn't. And he seemed to expect Nafsi to give him and these creatures—these malaiki—his total trust.

"My family?"

"Yes. They're all waiting to see you?" A rectangle suddenly appeared, golden savannah seen inside it. "Just walk through there."

"If I don't?" Nafsi asked compulsively.

"Then you can stay here, I suppose."

"No, sir," said Azl. "Not here. He'd have to be moved from this room. We've got a room waiting for him. But we want to get rid of this one." He turned to Nafsi. "We can send you to the other room now, sir. But I would advise seeing your family first."

"Why?" asked Nafsi.

"Well, they've never seen you before, sir."

Nafsi paused, thinking. He didn't seem to detect any ill will in the malaiki, or in Taraju. Maybe hey did want to help him. He jumped off the table without a word and walked through the rectangle. He found himself in a savannah, a wonderful savannah. It was even more beautiful than home had been. Taraju and Azl followed him, the rectangle disappearing behind them. He heard murmuring behind him and turned around to look between Azl and Taraju.

There were several lions behind him, some standing, some sitting. He recognized one of them. His great-grandmother, Kiara. Next to her stood a muscular lion with a black mane and a scar across his left eye. There was another lion that looked like a weaker, thinner version of the first lion, almost as if it was the same lion, but hadn't bothered with muscle. There were two more lions, both with red manes, a lioness at each of their sides both lionesses with blue eyes. Nafsi knew no one but Kiara.

The group stared at him, slight surprise on their faces. The surprise faded into smiled. "Hello, Nafsi," a lioness said. Nafsi said nothing, simply looking at them. He could tell they were related, at least from the looks. But he was a stranger. He looked like none of them, knew none of them. "We—uh, we're happy to see you," the lioness said.

"Who _are_ you?" asked Nafsi quietly, asking for much more than they could be expected to give.

Smiles that had been slipping lighted across faces again. "Of course," said Taraju, stepping next to Nafsi. "We all know you, but you don't know us. Well, that's Kiara—you know her—and the lion next to her is Kovu, and that's Scar—" the weaker black-maned lion nodded—"and there's Mufasa and his mate Sarabi—" a red-maned lion, his jaw large and his stature impressive, and his mate, her pelt tinged with gray, nodded—"and the last two are their son Simba and his mate Nala." The last red lion and the blue-eyed lioness next to him nodded. "And I'm Taraju, and . . . well, there's Fujo, but he's not here right now." There was a pause, Nafsi still staring. "So, we're your family."

"I don't know you," said Nafsi quietly.

Well, that's to be expected. You'll get to know us better later—"

"You're not my family."

There was a stunned silence. "Nafsi," said Sarabi quietly, "you may not know us, but I guarantee we are your family."

"No. I don't know you. You're not my family."

After a moment, what Nafsi was saying finally rolled over them. "I'm sure that we can get to know each other—" began Nala.

"She hated me," said Nafsi, pointing at Kiara with a little paw.

"Nafsi, I didn't—" started Kiara.

"You hated me. You despised me. I saw the way you looked at me. You never liked me, not from the start. You stared at me and thought 'Oh gods what is that _thing_.' You never felt any compassion for me. Never."

"Nafsi, I made a mistake," said Kiara. "I shouldn't have treated like I did. I'm sorry. Really."

Nafsi simply stared back. He had dealt with others like her before she died, and had to deal with them after she was gone, too. They had never changed. And them, the others—she called them _family_. Why should they be any different?

Nafsi knew he was making broad generalizations, one thing he prided himself on avoiding. But maybe dying had stressed him out, just a little bit. Maybe they had put him back together wrong. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He needed to think, think someplace quiet.

"Where's Mom and Dad?"

A still silence descended on the group for a moment. Azl finally broke it by saying, "They're in Purgatory, sir."

"Purgatory?"

"Yes, sir. For being punished."

"For what?"

"For what they did in life."

Nafsi didn't understand. "By whose standard?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Who said they should be punished?"

"I—I'm not sure, sir. They did awful things. Anyone could see that."

More thinking was needed. "Can I see them?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I think you could."

"Nafsi," said Taraju gently, "are you sure you want to see them?"

Nafsi looked up at him. "They're my parents. Shouldn't I want to?"

"After all they did to you, you still feel—"

"You know _nothing_ about what I feel!" said Nafsi with sudden anger.

Taraju swallowed nervously. He didn't know how Nafsi would react. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just . . . it's not quite normal to—"

"I'm not normal."

"There was silence again. "Sir," said Azl, "I can try to take you to your parents. Whenever you want to go."

"Fine," said Nafsi. "Let's go." A rectangle opened that Azl started toward. Nafsi followed him, then stopped when he heard a quiet voice.

"Maybe . . . when you get back we could go somewhere . . . and get to know each other."

Nafsi looked at the speaker. It had been Nala. The lioness seemed so nice, so worried about his response. She felt something for him. Nafsi wondered if it was that emotion. Love.

He didn't know. He did know, however, that his grandmother had taught him manners to be used with others that were, at least, decent to him. "I think I could do that, ma'am," he said. He turned and walked through the rectangle.

"Don't forget, sir," reminded Azl, "you need to—"

"—to report to the gods. I know," said Taraju. He watched Azl follow Nafsi through the rectangle before turning back to Nala. "He's not coming back, Grandma."

"Not coming back? What do you mean?" asked Kovu.

"He's to be placed under quarantine. No one in, no one out."

"But—why?" asked Sarabi

"I can't say," said Taraju. He opened up a white rectangle. A malaiki was seen through the portal.

"You can't say?" asked Kiara, her voice hurt.

"No."

"Why not?" asked Simba.

Taraju sighed. "Look, how many times have I, or even the gods, withheld something from you? From anyone? Please, just let this drop. Don't make this harder for me than it is. I have enough worries on my back as it is without having your disappointment added."

"Taraju—"

"Don't ask me again. Or I'll go to the gods and _ask_ them for an order of silence."

There was uneasy shifting. An order of silence was given to those who possessed information they shouldn't. If the animal breached the topic, they were immediately sent into unconsciousness. Taraju didn't need one; they all knew that. But if he was that unwilling to let something slip . . .

"Taraju, he's our family," said Mufasa. "We can't just pretend like he's not there."

"You did for the past four years."

"We didn't know," protested Mufasa.

"Even I can visit Zira," pointed out Scar.

"I know," said Taraju sadly. He walked to the rectangle, stopping before he went through. "If it's any consolation, you'll know when the surprise comes." He walked through, trying to shake the conversation from his mind. There were several malaiki on the other side of the rectangle, all of them having been in the room where they had pieced together Nafsi. The gods sat at the far end of the room, waiting for his explanation of his behavior.

Fela would be amused, he reflected idly.

Mano would be furious.

oOo

The room was dark, Nafsi reflected. Almost like a cave. The walks of the place seemed to ooze despair. A malaiki sat up from his prone position with a yawn. "Sorry about that, sir."

"About what?"

"Laziness on duty. Negligent of me, sir." An object opened, hundreds of flat, white rectangles bound together by a clear, thicker rectangle that enveloped three sides of the stack of thin, white rectangles. "So, who're you visiting?"

Nafsi hesitated a moment before saying, "My parents."

The malaiki gave Nafsi a warm, consoling smile. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. But I need their names."

"Jadi and Uchu." Nafsi turned to see the speaker. Azl had come into the room, the rectangle vanishing behind him.

The malaiki looked down at Nafsi in surprise and alarm, swallowing. "Azl sir, is this—"

"Yes. And he wants to see his parents."

"Azl sir . . ."

"His parents."

"Azl sir, only one may be allowed in at a time."

"Very well. Nafsi, which one?"

"Azl sir," interrupted the malaiki, "only Uchu is ready."

"Nafsi, which one?" repeated Azl.

"But Azl sir—"

Azl turned to fix the malaiki with a cold glare. "Malaiki, you are disobeying. Is there a reason why?"

"Azl sir, he's—"

"A good reason."

"No, Azl sir." The embarrassment was plainly in the malaiki's voice.

"You are to report to your superiors immediately after you are done with him."

"Yes, Azl sir."

"Now Nafsi, which one?"

Nafsi had been thinking. "I—I guess Mom first," he said.

"Nafsi, I'm sorry," said Azl gently, but we only have time for one. We can try the other later. But only one now."

"Well, Mom's ready now, right?"

"Ye-es. I suppose so."

"Mom."

"Very well." Azl turned to the malaiki. A portal opened to a place even darker than the room Nafsi was in. The malaiki and his rectangular object simply vanished. Azl said to Nafsi quietly, "Just ask for me when you're done." He, too, vanished.

Nafsi's gaze shifted back to the rectangle. After a few seconds, a lioness Nafsi didn't recognize at all slipped through uncertainly. Her eyes swept across the room, landing quickly on Nafsi. She stared at him for a moment in disbelief. "Nafsi?" she asked quietly.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked, his head tilted to the side.

"Nafsi—Nafsi, it's me. Your mother. Uchu."

"You don't look anything like her."

"Nafsi, it's me. It really is." He stared at her, trying to find some kind of similarity. She walked toward him, stopping when she got to the half-way point of the room as her nose ran into an invisible barrier. She stepped back, looking for what had stopped her. She held out a paw, having it press against the barrier. She stared at her paw forlornly. "No . . ."

"My mother is black," said Nafsi. "Not tan. Not green-eyed."

"Nafsi, it's me. This is my body. Mine, not the pool's." She stared at him, swallowing. "You don't believe me, do you?" Nafsi hesitated. "Please, believe me, Nafsi. I know I'm me. I know it."

"Tell me something," said Nafsi. "Something only Uchu would know."

She stared in his direction, trying to remember. "You . . . you're my son."

"If you're Uchu."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I'm me. Those are my memories. Memories . . . you made things."

"The entire kingdom knew that."

She closed her eyes and brought her paw down from the barrier as she hung her head. "I don't know. Nafsi, I don't know. I don't remember." Tears began to escape her eyes. "I don't remember. You're my son, Nafsi. My son. I know you're my son."

"I don't." He didn't mean to be cruel. But he refused to be tricked. She looked nothing like Uchu. She most definitely didn't talk like Uchu.

"Please," she begged. "You have to believe me."

"Try names," he suggested.

"Names," she whispered. "Names." She stared at the ground for quite some time. "I don't remember!" she cried. "I don't remember. Nothing. Three's nothing. There's—there's Jadi. That's a name." She looked back up at Nafsi. "That's a name."

"He was my father."

"Yes," she said, staring at the ground again. "Yes, he was king." She looked up at Nafsi. "And I was a loyal member of his pride, wasn't I?"

Nafsi stared at her. "You were queen."

"Queen?" she repeated. He face contorted as a fresh set of ears came about. "It's not there!" She pounded a paw on the ground angrily, tears falling. "It's not there. None of it's there." She slumped to the ground, weeping.

Nafsi stared at her. Pity was an emotion beyond him, something that he could not feel, due to the lioness in front of him. Who the lioness in front of him _claimed_ to be. She looked nothing like the Uchu he remembered, nor acted like her. Uchu was dignified; she would never allow herself to sink to this.

But Nafsi felt curiosity. He went to the lioness, next to her, and did something he remembered his grandmother doing as he wept to her. He went to the lioness and ran the backside of his paw under her eye, wiping away a tear, whispering to her, "Shh."

The lioness grabbed Nafsi, alarming him. He calmed down as he realized it was a hug. He could feel her tears wetting his body. He remembered something his mother had been able to do to animals, something that was cause enough for any animal to be scared. She could look into their heads and shift their emotions to absolute, unwavering loyalty to her. He had never tried it. He tried to look in, reaching for her mind—

—and found it was blocked.

Not blocked from him, but blocked from her. Barriers had been set in place, locking away memories, only giving just enough room to retain identity, along with tantalizing clues on paths that could no longer lead anywhere. Nafsi was surprised at the cruelty. The lioness didn't know—wouldn't know—who she was, and was left to wonder even about her sanity, driving her insane in the process.

Nafsi didn't understand. They were punishing Uchu—he knew now it was Uchu—for the things she had done. What had she done? Killed? Made one animal realized where his loyalty should have lied? She had acted on impulse, doing as she wished.

_Is that reason enough to punish someone? Not like this at least_. _Surely not like this_.

Without hesitation, Nafsi snapped the barriers in his mother's mind.

Immediately the hug was changed to a hold, simply a grip on him, lacking any warmth. The breathing became controlled, though it changed slower than the grip had changed. Uchu sat up, her mouth open slightly in shock. "I can't believe I was actually doing that," she said, revulsion in her voice. She hurriedly wiped away tears from her face, disgusted. "To make a fool of myself like that—"

"It was only you and me, Mother," said Nafsi quietly.

"And a fine example to be setting for you," she said. "Why did you even come to me? Out of pity?" She spat the last word.

"I wanted to talk to you. So I fixed you."

"How nice. And nice isn't something I taught you."

"You weren't my mother," said Nafsi coldly. "I wanted to talk to _you_."

Uchu smiled. "Now greed is better. I thought I would never be whole again," she said bitterly.

"I think the punishment is unjust."

"Damn right it is. Oh, Nafsi, you wouldn't believe the atrocities they've done to me. It tried killing me once. My—thing. Whatever that goddamned hybrid is."

"I think it's a malaiki."

"It killed me, just once. And then it began to take away my mind. My memories. Just sitting there, like stone, staring at me, watching my try to figure out who I was, watching me try to find something definite. Uchu, mother of Nafsi. All I knew. And to believe I _begged_ that scum to help me. I will never get that taste out of my mouth."

"You begged?" asked Nafsi.

"_She_ begged. I was never there. Until now. And I never plan to go back. Escape is right here." Uchu looked around the dark room with hope, then down at Nafsi. "Free me, my son. I'm not ashamed to beg from you, if that's what you wish. But free me."

"I don't know how, Mother. I've only been awake maybe an hour."

Uchu's eyes widened. "I—I've only been in there for any hour?"

"I hadn't been awake for three or four days, they tell me. And time in the living world has stopped."

"Three or four days?" whispered Uchu. "And no time had passed? At all? Nafsi—Nafsi, you have to get me out of here. I have a sentence, Nafsi. One million years. I won't last, Nafsi. Not if this was just a few days."

"I can't help you, Mother."

"Nafsi, please. I can't go back in there. They'll start all over again."

Nafsi stared at her thoughtfully. "I think this is called irony."

"What?"

"You never wanted me to show compassion, but now . . ."

"Nafsi, this is different. Please, just get me out of here."

"And you said there were no exceptions to be made, either."

"Don't you want to help me? I'm your mother, Nafsi."

"You stripped away any pity I had. The least you could have done was to take the loneliness away, too."

"You—you feel loneliness?"

"Yes," said Nafsi bitterly. "And here, in this Heaven, it eats away at me worse than it ever has. You have no idea how alone I am now."

"It's not possible."

"I do. And I wanted to talk to you about it."

"You hate me for it. And you want me in there. Is that it?"

"The punishment is unjust. I've told you I can't get you out of there."

Uchu walked a distance away impatiently. "And you make no denial that you hate me."

"Not you. I don't hate you."

"Oh, so you love me then? Like any good little cub should love his mother?" asked Uchu sarcastically.

"You hollowed that emotion out perfectly well. I have the coldest heart you can imagine. So I hope you're happy. Whatever happy is."

"You have pleasure."

"I have pleasure. I have pleased. I have amused. I do not have happy."

"And what do you need it for? To spend your life in pursuit of happiness? There is no such thing as 'true happiness.' Happiness has no place in a word where you are king, other than where it is happiness of pleasing you."

"King? What, do you expect me to overthrow the gods and make a kingdom of Heaven? I'm sure Afriti would appreciate that."

"If he exists." She sat down again, next to Nafsi. "So why are you dead? Did I mess up your immortality as well? Along with mine?"

"I killed you."

"You _what?!_" she hissed, livid.

"I wanted to help my friends. You showed no indication of being one."

"You didn't need friends! You _don't_ need friends! You have no equal, you can—"

"Then why did the loneliness go away with grandma? Why, at the very end of my life, did I die with—relief?"

"Your grandmother was—and, thanks to your efforts, still is—a stupid, ignorant fool."

Uchu gasped as she was suddenly wrestled to the ground by black matter that sprang from the ground to enclose her. Nafsi walked to her head and tilted her chin up with his little paw so she looked him in the eye.

"You will not insult Grandma in that way. You may have punished her, but you will not insult her. Not when I was alive, and certainly not now that I'm dead." He studied her eyes. "You're afraid of me." He turned away, releasing her.

"Yes" she said defiantly. "With every reason to be. No one knows more about you than me."

"No one knows more about what I should be than you. You don't know me at all."

"You are a cold, heartless animal, concerned only with yourself."

"I won't deny it. I killed you because I wanted to reward Grandma's loyalty. I did it because I wanted it, not because she wanted it. I wanted my friends to be rewarded. It would please _me_. You would have been dead long ago if I killed you just because she wanted it. You ceased to be of any use to me so long ago."

"Then why didn't you kill me? Or is this more disobedience?"

"Like you wanted me to obey."

"I wanted you to be great! I wanted to make you the greatest ruler the world had ever seen!"

"I could have been. I know that."

"So you threw it all away. All because you were _lonely_. What's next? Fear?"

"I can feel that, too. And I've only felt it once."

"Encouraging. Although I can't see what use it is, as you won't free me."

"I can't free you. I would. The punishment is unjust."

"So what do you want now, O Great Nafsi?"

"I wanted to see you. And let you know how you failed. And I want you to fix me."

"Fix you?" Uchu asked bitingly.

"Fix me. Make me how you wanted me to be. Take away the loneliness. I'm tired of feeling the pain. I thought you would listen to me now."

"I have no power anymore," said Uchu bitterly.

Nafsi blinked as he stared at the ground in thought. "I took it."

"Then that explains plenty. Fix yourself." She looked at him curiously. "You can't, can you?"

"No."

"You're afraid you'll change, that you'll forget your friends, that you won't want them anymore."

Nafsi looked away from her. "Yes. And no. I want to make them happy, but . . ."

"And you are stuck in deadlock. Didn't you enjoy that crater you made? Slaughtering all of those animals?"

"More than you can imagine."

"You could feel that whenever you wished. Kill whenever you pleased. If only you had no loneliness. You wouldn't want friends. You wouldn't have to worry about pleasing them to make new friends."

"I don't know how to alter myself anyway. Besides, I doubt the gods would let me kill as I wished."

"And what if they couldn't stop you? What if you were stronger?"

"I doubt it. They're gods." He spoke into the air. "Azl."

Azl appeared next to him. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"I want to go back. To Nala."

"Yes, sir." A rectangle appeared behind Uchu, the same black rectangle that had disappeared earlier. "Through there, ma'am."

Uchu glared up at Azl. She spat at him, hitting Azl just below the eye, before sulkily going back to her prison. Nafsi looked up at Azl. After Uchu had left and the rectangle had disappeared, he wiped the spit away with a paw. "Sir, through there." He gestured at a white rectangle, one that Nafsi had seen before. Where he first had been.

"This isn't back," he said coldly.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I can't send you back."

"You're scared of me."

"Of what you might do to me for this, yes. Sir, please, I'm just following orders. We have to—station you for an uncertain period of time. I'll say it now: you might as well be imprisoned. No visitors, no one but a malaiki guard."

"Why?" asked Nafsi coldly.

"Because Afriti's coming. And we don't want any sign of—ill will."

"Why would he come? This is Heaven."

"Afriti wants you. Your power. We didn't know if you would keep it or not. But you did. And Afriti was ready to come as soon as it was known you were dead. Afriti's coming now that you're—together again."

"Who is Afriti? Aiheu's enemy?"

"Um . . . yes that's as good a way to put it without going into detail."

"And you want to put me in here for safekeeping."

Azl thought it over. "Pretty much, sir."

"And if I say no?"

"I try to persuade you. Nicely."

"And if I resist?"

"Then I become very, very scared, sir. I don't know how many it would take to put you in there. Please, sir, don't let it come to that. I personally guarantee no harm will come to you in there."

"Nafsi stared at him. "Fine." He walked into the white room, Azl staying on the other side.

"If you want anything, sir, just ask the guard. It'll be there shortly." The rectangle winked out of existence. Azl sighed with relief. He was afraid Nafsi _would_ turn on him. He liked his limbs right where they were, unlike that poor malaiki in the operating room. Who knew how long it'd take to re-grow half a leg?

Azl pushed the thoughts out of his mind, chiding himself for losing focus. He needed to see the gods immediately. He opened a rectangle, hoping the recent changes to everything didn't affect the gods' "don't maim the messenger" policy.

Rahimu would be amused, he reflected idly.

Mano would be pulling out his mane.

oOo

The looks the malaiki gave Taraju weren't "Oh, are _you_ in for it" looks. Although he most certainly was. As soon as he stepped through he heard, "Ilemi, come here." He unconsciously swallowed as he walked toward the semicircle where the gods sat, all of them. It was a rather large semicircle.

His pawsteps made barely any sound as he walked into the semicircle. There was no doubt that his intentions had been—and still were—good. But good intentions weren't what was needed right now, especially not intentions like that. They needed good actions. Taraju sat down in the semicircle, giving a respectful "Here, sir," to the lion that called him.

"I suppose you know why you are here," said the lion, Aiheu, coldly.

"I think so, sir. But perhaps you could clarify it for me."

Mutters went through the assemblage, Taraju hearing variations of the word "insubordination." "The reason we are here," said Mano, his voice rising above the murmur, "is to address your behavior during Nafsi's—restoration."

"I did my job well, sir," said Taraju proudly. "I even managed to assist the malaiki on several—"

"You overstepped your bounds!" thundered Mano. "A killswitch?!"

"Sir, would you permit me to explain myself?" asked Taraju politely.

Before Mano could answer, a female hyena, Roh'kash, cut him off. "Please do," she said, her harsh voice even more so than usual.

"Thank you, ma'am. Sirs, I believe Nafsi should be returned to the land of the living." Angry voices broke out, shouting things such as "Never!" "This has never been done!" "Against everything—" Taraju waited for the silence to return. "He has died far ahead of his time. And you know how he is literally an emotional cripple." There was more muttering, cut off abruptly by a roar from Aiheu. "Shouldn't he be allowed to live a full life?" asked Taraju.

"Plenty of animals have had less life than they should have," said a gazelle angrily. "And they stay here. He is no different."

"They have a family, or at least someone close. Who does he have?"

"He has family," spoke up a wild dog. "You're his great-uncle, of all things. And you say he has no family?"

"He doesn't have anyone he feels he can turn to. Do you know what that's like? To be alone? Utterly alone? I was manipulated my entire life. I went through things I would wish on no one, and yet I was never alone. And then I was tossed in Purgatory. And do you know what hurt most? The hopelessness. The knowledge that I _was_ alone, and no one would be coming to save me. If you believe—"

"We didn't come here to listen to speeches," said an elephant testily. "We came here to deal with his disobedience and be done with it."

"We are giving him the opportunity to speak," said a tigress, Fela, calmly. "And I really would like to hear him out. Wouldn't you?"

"Thank you ma'am. Sirs, what I'm trying to say is—is that I believe Nafsi deserves a second chance at living. But living immortally would be a terrible thing. Watching your friends die, your mate die. A killswitch would be the kindest thing."

"What would he care about mates?" asked a cheetah angrily. "You saw what happened in the Pridelands. He massacred countless animals because he was angry! Angry!"

"The point is not whether or not Nafsi will get a second chance," yelled Mano over the cheetah. "The point is that Ilemi disobeyed explicit orders! Do you have any idea what Afriti would think if it was known we put a killswitch in Nafsi?"

"No, sir," said Taraju respectfully.

"Can you imagine what would happen if Nafsi was here in Heaven and we decided to use that killswitch?"

"I . . . I'm guessing he would—"

"Shatter! Completely! And we wouldn't be putting the pieces back together again!"

"With all due respect, sir, this has come and gone. We can't put one in now. Shouldn't we drop the matter?"

Mano opened his mouth to retort angrily, but Aiheu waved him quiet. He said coldly, "The issue is that you disobeyed us. And on this matter, of all things."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm a lion. Not a malaiki."

Angry mutters sounded through the gods. "You are not a god, either," said Aiheu. "You are not given the privileges a god has. You were expected to obey us expressly on this. You are, after all, an Illuminati. You are to be an example."

"Sir, as an Illuminati, I cannot do other than I think is right."

"What is right in our eyes is not right in Afriti's," said Fela.

Taraju was struck by the statement, partly because it came from Fela, who was generally one of his protectors, someone who stood by him. But he knew she was simply stating the obvious that had been skirted around the entire conversation. What struck him was what was implied.

"Afriti's coming here," he said, his voice unconsciously going to a whisper.

"Yes," said Aiheu. "Here."

"But sir," said Taraju in a normal voice, "I thought—a neutral territory, or—or something—"

"Afriti is coming home," said Aiheu firmly.

"Sir, are you sure that's the best idea?"

"Nafsi is here, under our control. Afriti will be coming here as well. We welcome any chance to have our brethren here."

"Sir—"

"Sir!" Taraju and the gods turned to see Azl behind Taraju.

"I assume you have a reason for bursting in like this," said Mano sternly.

"Sir," said Azl, taking a place next to Taraju, "the rules don't apply for him."

"Who?"

"Nafsi. The rules. They don't apply to him."

"What are you talking about, Azl?" Rahimu asked.

"In the visiting room, with his mother—_he walked right through the barrier_."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Aiheu over more muttering.

"Right through it, sir. Like it wasn't even there. And threw his mother to the ground. He has all his powers, sir."

"How is that possible?" asked a hippopotamus.

"I don't know, sir," said Azl. "It may have happened when we restored him. It was—difficult. But we don't know how difficult it is normally. He's the only one we've had."

"This will only make it worse," muttered Roh'kash. "Afriti will only want him more."

"We knew this could happen," said Aiheu. "It was the only reason Afriti decided to come. Afriti _wanted_ Nafsi to have his powers."

"Where is he?" asked Mano to Azl.

"He's in his waiting room, sir. With a guard."

"How did you manage to get him in there?" asked a cheetah, dreading the answer.

"He just went, ma'am."

"He went?" asked an antelope. "Quietly?"

"Yes, sir. I just explained it, and he went. Without a fuss. He seems to want to be told what's going on, but that's it. He just wants to know."

"You understand how difficult this is to believe," said Aiheu.

"I can't lie, sir," said Azl unhappily.

"We know that. But still, it's quite a bit to swallow."

"Aiheu," said Rahimu, "if Nafsi still has all of his power—"

"—then the war may be closer than we thought."

oOo

Taraju walked toward his brother sadly. Afriti was coming to Heaven to get the one animal that most likely would give Hell enough strength to destroy all the gods. And Taraju was required to carry that load on his back and not tell anyone of what was happening. He needed a laugh. But his brother wouldn't give him that, he knew. Fujo was throwing a hissy fit.

Taraju saw his brother lying on the grass, absentmindedly twirling a digit on a forepaw in an omniscio. An animal could see any part in the entire world through that water. Fujo's swirling had the pictures in the water constantly changing. It finally stopped as Fujo took his paw out of the water and stared into it intently. He looked up as his brother approached. A wide, insincere grin spread across his face.

"Well, look who it is. His majesty has decided to grace us with his presence."

"Fujo—" began Taraju with a voice of long suffering.

"Shall I bow to his great Ileminess?"

"Fujo—"

"What may I do for you? Kiss your paws, get your food? I don't know what to do; I'm so _unworthy_ to be in the presence of the great Illuminati Ilemi—"

"You didn't go to see Nafsi."

"Who's Nafsi? Oh, yes, that animal you claim to be my grandson, but I've never even _seen!_"

"Fujo, I had no control over that," said Taraju patiently.

"Oh, but couldn't you have _tried_ to use your goddamn status for once?"

"Fujo, I tried. Really, I did. The gods barely ever decide not to tell the animals things—"

"And it just had to be my grandson, didn't it?" Fujo said angrily.

"It was Nafsi they were worried about."

"They had no reason to hide him from me!" Fujo yelled. "He couldn't do anything to us!"

"We didn't know how much Uchu knew. She could have had Afriti whispering in her ear the entire time."

"Oh, bull_shit!_ There was no way he could be—"

"Who knew what Uchu was told when she was in that pool?" Taraju yelled.

"Who gives a damn?! She couldn't have come here! They've been holding out on all of us, and for no reason! And you won't tell me anything! This is my family, Ilemi!"

"You think I don't have problems of my own?!"

"Like hell you have problems, Mr. Illuminated!"

"Afriti is coming!" screamed Taraju. "Afriti is coming, the war is coming, the end of the whole world is coming, and I have to keep that away from my family! Do you think that's easy?!" He stopped, breathing heavily, and suddenly realized what he has said. "Shit," he said quietly. He made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "And no you have me cursing, too."

"The war is coming?" Fujo said quietly, stunned. "Now?"

"Shut up, Fujo. You shouldn't have even heard that."

"Taraju—"

"Oh, I'm not 'Ilemi' anymore?"

Fujo stared at the ground guiltily. "I just—"

"You just wanted to know," said Taraju bitterly. He sat down. "I can't tell you anything they don't want me to, you know that."

"You just did," said Fujo.

"And I'm getting an order of silence. That'll be the first thing they do. And they're right."

Fujo sat down next to his brother. "You know I'm not mad at _you_, right?"

"Now _that's_ a lie."

"Okay, maybe a little. But you won't even tell me _anything_. I have the right to know—"

"No, Fujo, you don't."

"This is my _son's_ affairs we're talking about. And my grandson."

"Fujo, the gods said you shouldn't see Nafsi. They said no one—"

"They're wrong. You know something? The last time I saw my son was two days before he died. I wasn't even there when he went. And I haven't been allowed to see him since. I love Jadi, Taraju. I want to see him. _Now_."

"Fujo—"

"_This isn't fair_."

Fujo, I'm under a huge strain. I have secrets I can't even tell my own mother. I need to tell someone, anyone, but there isn't a single animal, save one of those malaiki and the other Illuminati. They know, so I can't tell them. I have to just go through this, all by myself. You call that fair?"

"You could tell me."

"No, I can't."

"I wouldn't tell anyone," promised Fujo.

"You would. You'd slip."

"Now _that's_ trusting."

"Fujo, please. I just wanted to talk. Laugh. Forget."

"I'm not happy right now, either. Wrong place."

Taraju sighed and stared down at the omniscio Fujo had been using. It showed a group of cubs playing somewhere in the world. It could be anywhere. Omniscios showed anything. An omniscio could even show the past, if it wanted. Unless, of course, the gods decided a place or an animal was wrong to see, such as Nafsi. Nafsi could have been right where Fujo was looking and Fujo would have never seen Nafsi, only the disturbances that Nafsi made.

The omniscio currently stared at a group of cubs playing in a savannah. Another cub sat off the side, her paws and the tip of her tail black, the color change flowing smoothly between her black and her light pelt. She watched the cubs playing.

For some reason known only to her, she decided to try to ask the others if she cold play as well. Taraju could guess the response before it happened: the laughter, vicious, mocking laughter; the taunting; the pushing around, and finally the running away, leaving the cub to cry. Fujo waved a paw over the omniscio before the torment got too far, changing the scene to a huge den Taraju remembered fondly.

"Esi again?" Taraju asked.

"Esi," said Fujo.

"Why do you keep looking at her?"

"It's just a nice reminder of all the things that we could to, but never will," said Fujo bitterly.

Taraju didn't argue. He'd gone over this topic with Fujo too many times. Taraju realized the logic of the gods; if they intervened, Afriti would more than do the same. The ever-looming war would happen even sooner. But he couldn't help but agree with Fujo anyway. They did have the power, they should help. Taraju's splitting of his soul hadn't done anything to stop his feelings. It was unthinkable for him to be a god. He was simply too eager to use power that the gods had learned long ago should be used carefully.

"Do you want to see Nafsi now?" Taraju asked as way of apology.

"Is that all you came to ask?"

"No one's supposed to be allowed in," said Taraju slyly.

"You expect me to believe that you, Mr. Perfect Illuminati Who Is Absolutely Unwilling to Do Anything Wrong wants to sneak me into an un-allowed room?"

"Alright, if you don't want to, I'll just leave," said Taraju, standing up, feeling the bitter truth of Fujo's words. There was a time when he could have—would have—done this without a second thought. He'd wished more than once for these pure restraints that held him back to be gone, to have even just a touch of immorality to let him act freer. It wasn't normal to want that, he knew it. None of the other Illuminati felt that.

"Taraju," said Fujo.

"Yes?"

"Uh . . ."

"Come on now, I'm an Illuminati; my time is important."

Fujo laughed. "Alright, let's—"

Fujo was cut off by the sudden appearance of a malaiki. "Sir!" it called, flying toward Taraju.

"Oh, great," muttered Taraju.

"Sir!" The malaiki landed gracefully. "Sir, we've been looking all over for you. The gods want to see you right away. It's time."

"Already?"

"Yessir. With respect, you were supposed to be easily available."

"I know," said Taraju, annoyed. He couldn't even see his brother anymore without causing trouble. "Fujo, look, I didn't know—"

"Yeah, yeah, duty calls and all that." Fujo turned moodily back to the omniscio and lied down, continually changing the image.

Taraju stared at him sadly. There really was no reason for him to be excluded from his family like this. "Sir—"

"Patience, malaiki."

"Yes, sir."

Taraju went to Fujo and placed a paw on the back of his neck. "Fujo, I'll be back to take you. I promise."

"Yeah, uh-huh." Fujo continued to stare at the looking-pool.

Taraju sighed and made for the rectangle the malaiki opened. "Let's go," he said.

Taraju stopped as he heard, "Make it fast. He turned around. Fujo hadn't moved, but the pictures in the omniscio had stopped changing places.

Taraju smiled. "Deal." He turned and walked through the rectangle.

oOo

Malaiki were lined up in two rows, making a path and sitting perfectly still. It was an impressive sight. The lines went for quite a while. It was obvious that every malaiki had been turned out for the event. It looked as if even Purgatory had been emptied of them.

The gods stood at one end of the line, waiting with the Illuminati. There were only twenty-six Illuminati, twenty-six pure souls after centuries of life. But the twenty-seventh was missing. The twenty-six knew it.

"He should have been here," muttered Raylo. The hyena shook his head.

"Mano's going to throw a fit," the leopard Fayzana observed.

"Have any of you actually seen Mano here?" asked Shani, a wildebeest.

They turned to look over the gods. No, Mano wasn't there, or, oddly enough, Aiheu. Oh, wait, there they were, just now arriving.

Mano looked toward Aiheu. "Father—"

"Not another word," said Aiheu sternly. "They are family."

Taraju emerged behind the group. "Sorry," he apologized, the Illuminati turning to see him.

"We were worried you wouldn't show," said the margay Ilet.

"Or worse, you'd pop up in the middle," said Fayzana.

"Yes, that would be embarrassing," admitted Taraju.

"Ilemi."

Taraju stiffened. He knew that voice. He also knew the owner of the voice never called him that unless it was something important. He turned around to see Fela's face. The tigress's face was unreadable. "Ma'am?"

"You were late."

"Ma'am, I can explain. I was visiting—"

"I could care less what kept you," she said with a smile. "But you're supposed to be greeting Afriti."

"Greeting?"

"It's very simple. Just say something like 'Welcome to Heaven.' In more words, obviously."

"I didn't hear—"

"Because I'm telling you now. Now get out front, and don't screw up. _Act_."

Taraju jumped at the command that had been drilled into him as a cub. He began to walk out in front of the gods before his brain actually told his legs to consciously. He ended up in front of the gods, almost perfectly centered.

"Uh, did anyone tell him about Afriti?" whispered Raylo.

"What, you mean he doesn't know—" hissed Fela. She was cut off by a stern look from Aiheu. He wasn't in a good mood. Fela shook her head as she walked back to her spot. This would be a disaster. And in front of everyone, too.

_Poor Taraju_.

The procession was finally visible in the distance, a speck coming closer through the two lines of malaiki. Taraju stiffened, wishing he could be as utterly still as a malaiki. He knew how Afriti was coming here; by the stretch f land connecting Heaven and Hell, one of only two existing. It stretched from the savannah of heaven to a barren wasteland, and into a savannah even richer than Heaven's. Afriti spared nothing when it came to proving Hell was superior.

The procession came close enough to make out. In the front, with a lioness by his side, was a large, muscular lion. He might have been smaller than the malaiki, nearly every creature was, but the strength he seemed to exude was obvious. If he were to challenge any malaiki, it was more than obvious who would triumph. His pitch-black mane was large, proudly flowing across his neck. His muscular body effortlessly left deep paw-prints in the ground as he came closer to the gods, his eyes clearly blazing with hatred.

Taraju swallowed nervously. It seemed that the war came closer with each step the lion took, as if he was bringing it with him. Despair seemed to fill Taraju; how could anyone stand up to this monster?

The procession stopped roughly two feet away from Taraju. Taraju bowed his head to the lion and said, with all the respect he could muster, "Afriti, we welcome you to Heaven. We hope that you will be pleased with our services."

He brought his eyes up to look at Afriti. The lion's face was filled with obvious disgust for Taraju. Taraju's attention was suddenly turned to the lioness beside the lion.

She said coldly, "_I_ am Afriti."

Taraju looked at her in surprise. "I beg your pardon, ma'am. My humblest apologies. I had no idea—"

"I wouldn't expect an Illuminati to know how to walk and talk at the same time." Her icy tones chilled Taraju's heart. Her hatred was outright and obvious. Her dark eyes didn't possess the same anger as the lion next to her; it was well-hidden. She was a liar, a deceiver, a manipulator. But she could convey more than enough contempt for her victim when ever she pleased, as she did now.

Taraju bowed his head to her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Forgive me."

Aiheu appeared by Taraju's side. "Welcome home, Afriti."

There may have been worse things to say, but Taraju thought that might have been pretty high on the list. Afriti said with barely suppressed rage, "This was _never_ my home."

There was silence. Aiheu said, "Not all of you have returned."

"I vowed never to set paw in this land until it was mine," said Afriti, her tone all ice again. "Do you think I, or any of the others, wanted to return to you?" Aiheu's pain didn't show. "Now, where is Nafsi?"

"We . . . have him in a room by himself, under a malaiki guard."

"I demand an equal number of my guard in there."

"Ma'am," said Taraju, "the malaiki are quite capa—"

"Quiet, Taraju," commanded Aiheu. He turned back to Afriti. "Of course."

"I want to see him," insisted Afriti.

"In good time."

"_Now_."

"Your guard shall be posted immediately. That will have to do."

"How am I supposed to know what you are doing to him in there?"

"I assume your guard can communicate mentally like the malaiki. As for what we are doing to him, he is simply being confined for safety."

"Whose?" asked Afriti bitingly.

"Ours."

Afriti's surprise showed only for a moment before she said, "Very well. I want my guard posted now."

"Taraju," said Aiheu.

"Yes, sir."

"Take a guard to Nafsi."

"Yes, sir." Taraju watched as Afriti turned to her party and nodded to one of the animals behind her. There were several in the party, and Taraju had never seen one before. They somewhat resembled malaiki, but they didn't have mixed body parts as the malaiki did. They were all smooth black fur, four of them being slightly tinted with red. Their bodies shared the same muscular form as the malaiki, and if anything they were more built. Their faces were very much like a lion's or a tigers in the fact that they had a large jaw, but they had no lion's mane. Their claws were extended, but Taraju suspected they might not be extended at all; that might be their actual length. Who knew what would be revealed when they were truly angry? They seemed to be meant only for one thing: to kill, to cause pain, grief, and misery.

The shetani that Afriti nodded to, a red-tinged one, said in a voice that frightened Taraju with its low, guttural viciousness, "Yes, my queen." Taraju opened up a rectangle to Nafsi's room and led the guard through it.

Aiheu said after Taraju had disappeared, "You must be tired from the journey. We can offer you a place to stay if you wish."

"Your delays are only prolonging the inevitable," said Afriti.

Aiheu said, slight effort being noted in his voice, "Will you accept the offer?"

Afriti turned to the animals behind her, who gave general assent. She turned back to Aiheu. "Very well. But we do not expect to stay here any longer than necessary."

Aiheu looked away before he said, "Of course." He turned his back to Afriti as he turned toward the Illuminati. "Marim?"

"Yes, sir," a red-maned lion responded.

"Show Afriti to a place you believe suitable."

"Yes, sir. Ma'am, if you and the others would kindly follow me." Marim turned, Afriti and her group following him. They all proceeded through a rectangle to another part of Heaven.

When the rectangle closed, Aiheu said softly, "You are dismissed." Malaiki vanished through rectangles, going back to their duties. The gods began to file through rectangles, going back to their meeting place. Aiheu continued to stare at the savannah, even after all the animals in his vision had gone.

Roh'kash went to his side. "Aiheu?" the hyena asked softly in her gravelly voice.

"She hates me, doesn't she?" He looked down at Roh'kash. "She really does hate me, doesn't she?"

"You knew that."

"I didn't want to believe it."

"None of us did."

"I love her, Roh'kash. And she'll never love me. She'll never love anyone but herself. I just wanted to believe that she was pretending, but after centuries . . . It hurts, Roh'kash."

"I can't know what you're going though. My mate stayed."

"And you were one of the luckiest of us. I lost her, I lost Mwovu . . . I only have Mano."

"Aiheu . . ." Roh'kash paused, picking her words carefully. "It may hurt. But we can't have you thinking about her. There's nothing you can do to get her back, or Mwovu. We all want them back; Heaven was a much happier place with them. But you can't keep hoping to get her back. That's a very mortal flaw you have, your wish to please her, and she knows it's there. Please, just think before you do anything. You're affecting all of us."

Aiheu stared blankly out into the savannah. Roh'kash turned to follow after the other gods, then stopped to see if Aiheu was following. "Aren't you coming?"

"I want to take a walk," he said. "I won't be gone long."

Roh'kash watched as the lion walked into the savannah. He didn't return until night.


	3. Getting Both Sides

Taraju walked into the room quietly, Fujo emerging from the rectangle behind him. Both the shetani and the malaiki sat up a little straighter. "Sir," said the malaiki, "no one is to be allowed in."

"He wanted to talk to his grandson," said Taraju, nodding toward Fujo. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Fujo was staring at the shetani in obvious fear. The shetani stared back, its face blank, but its pose stating contempt for both of them plainly.

"Sir, I was told no exceptions," said the malaiki.

"Malaiki, these are my orders. You are going to sit there, you are going to watch him, and you will shut him up if he says anything you believe unwise. I won't speak unless spoken to. Understood?"

"Sir . . ."

"Just ask the gods. There has to be a malaiki with them."

The malaiki's vision went slightly out of focus as he stretched out telepathically. After several seconds, he finally said, "Rahimu gives his consent, sir. But it's unadvisable—"

"Malaiki, I gave you orders."

"Yes, sir."

"And I realize I can't order you," said Taraju to the shetani, "but I hope you will do the same." The shetani did nothing. "Come on, Fujo." He proceeded toward the still form on the floor some distance away, Fujo hurriedly following.

"That thing gives me the creeps," said Fujo in a whisper. "What is it?"

"A shetani. One of Hell's malaiki."

"I'll take our kind."

They could see quite plainly that Nafsi wasn't moving, save for his body moving up and down slightly as he breathed. He was lying on his stomach, head down, eyes closed. "Fujo, let's come back later. He's asleep."

"No, I'm not." Nafsi brought up his head and opened his dark eyes. "What?"

Taraju was still unnerved by the adult words and intonations coming out of a cub's body. "Uh . . . well, I brought your grandfather for a visit. This is Fujo."

"Hey," said Fujo, kindness plainly in his voice. He was studying Nafsi intently. It didn't surprise Taraju; Fujo had never seen Nafsi before. "So, what were you doing, if you weren't sleeping?"

"Thinking. I like it."

"Oh. About what?"

"About when I woke up." Fujo was confused. "I shouldn't have lost control."

"What do you mean?" asked Fujo.

"I was scared."

"There's nothing wrong with being scared." Fujo turned to Taraju. "Is there?"

"He cut off a malaiki's leg," said Taraju.

"You're joking."

"No."

Fujo looked back down at the cub. "It's true," said Nafsi. "I lost control. And I should have."

"Nafsi, you were scared—" began Fujo.

"I shouldn't have been. I'd never been scared before. I shouldn't have been scared now."

Fujo looked toward Taraju. "What happened?"

"He was blind," said Taraju. "We had to piece him back together. We hadn't connected his brain to his body fully, and he broke through the restraints. Anyone would have been scared in his position."

"What did you do to him?" asked Fujo in a low voice, obviously shocked.

"It was the only way for him to have an afterlife."

Fujo looked back at Nafsi in a new light, with even more respect. "Nafsi, it was okay to be scared."

Fujo expected a response like "No, it wasn't" or "I know," not "Was it?"

"Um . . . yeah."

"Why?" asked Nafsi simply.

"You—you were . . . in a . . . uncomfortable situation . . . so . . . so you . . . you should have been scared," Fujo finished lamely.

"I'd been uncomfortable before," said Nafsi. "I wasn't scared then. It just seems like such a waste."

"What?"

"Fear. I went berserk because of it. If Taraju wasn't there, I would have killed everyone. It only seems to make you do things you shouldn't. It's a useless emotion."

"Nafsi, it's not useless," said Fujo.

"Why?"

Fujo's mouth opened to answer, then shut. "Good question. Taraju has the answer."

"Fujo . . ." said Taraju.

"Well?"

"I don't know. All I know is I've been scared more times than I care to count, and it's saved my life almost every time."

"So wouldn't that mean it has value?"

"If I hadn't been afraid, the beatings wouldn't have been quite so bad."

"_Beatings?_"

"Dingane spared no opportunity to teach," said Taraju simply.

Fujo paused for a second, taking in another shock about his brother's past. "So you'd say fear is worthless?"

"I'd have died a lot sooner if I hadn't had fear. It's a warning system."

"So fear is good."

"At times. It's irrational."

"But it's not worthless," said Fujo, turning back to Nafsi. "See?"

"I acted without thinking," said Nafsi. "I shouldn't have. I've always been rational."

"Irrationality is natural," said Fujo.

"I'm not natural."

Fujo was quiet. "Is it really true?" he asked Taraju.

"What?"

"His emotions."

"Yes."

"Nafsi . . ." Fujo didn't know what to say. "It's not right."

"He was constructed for efficiency, Fujo," said Taraju. "Not for enjoyment, at least in the normal sense."

"Made for evil, you mean."

"It's one way of looking at it. But he's content with that."

"Does that mean that's right?!" yelled Fujo.

"Sir," said the malaiki, "don't discuss that."

"Discuss what?" yelled Fujo. "His rights?!"

"Right now he has none, sir. But I was referring to influencing him. Not allowed, sir."

"He has no idea what he's missing!"

"It's not your job, sir. I don't want to have to remove you."

"Damn you, you're supposed to be perfect! Don't you see anything wrong with this?"

"Sir, I can't answer that—"

"Oh, go to hell with your 'I can't answer that,' you hear me?"

"Malaiki," said Taraju, "remove him."

"Yes, sir." The malaiki moved toward Fujo.

"Don't touch me! I'll leave on my own!"

"Now, sir."

Fujo walked angrily toward the exit that sprang into existence. He didn't bother to even look at the malaiki or Taraju. He stalked past the shetani to hear a low, guttural growl. Fujo did his best to ignore the chilling thing as he left.

Taraju sighed and looked back to Nafsi. "I'm sorry about that."

"I'm not going to be allowed out of here, am I?" asked Nafsi. It was a simple question, with no hint of sadness or regret. Just a cold, logical question.

"It's . . . possible," said Taraju guiltily. "Your power can destroy all of us in Heaven, if you join Hell."

"Sir," said the malaiki, "do I have to remind you—"

"Apologies." Taraju turned back to Nafsi. "I should go now. I'm sorry, but I don't know what will happen to you."

Taraju still thought of Nafsi as a cub. He expected a display of cubbishness, of saying it wasn't fair, or of asking for more information. "Fine" was all Nafsi said as he laid his head down. Taraju stared for a second, and left. He saw Fujo angrily walking away.

"Fujo!" he yelled. He ran to catch up to him. "Fujo! Fujo—"

"What?!" Fujo asked, turning around with a snarl.

Taraju stopped dead as he saw the uncharacteristically ugly look on his brother's face. He regained his courage in only a moment. "What was that about?"

"'What was that about?' 'What was that about?!' What the hell were _you_ about?"

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't you see him? He's a prisoner, Taraju, a prisoner! And did you even see yourself, Ilemi?"

"Fujo, you know I don't like that name."

"Funny, 'cause you sure as hell embraced the concept in there!"

"What—"

"'Remove this unholy scum, lest he bring the wrath of the devil upon our soul!'" said Fujo in a mocking voice.

"Fujo, you were out of line."

"Out of _line?_ It's a good thing I was, 'cause everyone else in line apparently can't see what's going on! They are holding my grandson a prisoner, and it's for no reason at all!"

"It's so Afriti can't say we swayed Nafsi's judgment if it comes down to letting Nafsi choose Heaven or Hell."

"He doesn't even get a choice?!"

"He might."

"Might!"

"Fujo, we don't know any other option."

"Put him through Purgatory like everyone else!"

"The malaiki can't control him."

"Then how do you actually expect to keep him anywhere?!"

"We're working on it."

"Work harder!"

"Fujo, why do you even care this much? This isn't like you. You just blow up—"

"This is like me, Taraju! I'm emotional! I get angry, I don't just sit around on a high-and-mighty shining ass and say, 'Maybe we should do this, maybe we should do that—' No! I go out and _do_ something!"

"There's nothing I can do, Fujo." Taraju began to walk away.

"Use your stupid station for once in your life! You're an Illuminati!"

"Aiheu and Afriti will come to an understanding. I'm not part of it. That's how it should be."

"I can't believe I'm hearing those words coming out of your mouth!"

Taraju whirled around angrily. "And what do you propose? Huh?"

"I don't know, but at least give him a chance! Or give him a second chance. He hasn't even lived a decent life inside that body."

"You think I haven't suggested things like that?"

"Do more than suggest, for Aiheu's sake! Grab the issue by the neck and _strangle!_"

"He's just a cub," said Taraju, walking away again. "He doesn't matter."

Fujo ran at Taraju with a roar and tackled him to the ground. He landed on top of Taraju's chest, Taraju pinned underneath him, Fujo's teeth bared. "Don't you dare say that."

"Fujo, you don't even know him—"

"He's my grandson! I am going to lose my son to Hell! I refuse to lose Nafsi, too!"

"You don't know that Jadi will—"

"The Black Line starts in three years! There isn't enough time to put him inside Heaven! No one is ever broken in under . . . ten years. Oh, gods." Fujo's eyes widened in realization. "I can't believe them!" He got off Taraju angrily and walked a short distance away.

"Fujo, we have an agreement—"

"An agreement!" yelled Fujo, turning angrily. "How many other animals have actually come to the conclusion I have?! Every ten years the Black Line starts, and no one is ever released under ten years! How many animals could we have actually saved if we hadn't made that agreement? Huh?!"

"Fujo," said Taraju, turning over, "we've done a lot of things we aren't proud of."

"Well it looks like Afriti gets his way with everything, doesn't he?"

"Fujo, Afriti is a lioness."

"Ha, ha. Funny."

"I didn't know either."

"The animal with the most hatred and rage in the entire world is a _female?_"

"Hell apparently does have fury like a female scorned."

"The gods are letting themselves be pushed around by a _lioness?_"

"We're not being pushed around—"

"Ten years for Purgatory! Purgatory even being there in the first place! This whole issue of my grandson even being brought up!" Fujo was yelling again.

"Fujo, it's not like that—"

"My grandson is being kept prisoner in the freest kingdom anywhere, and he doesn't even get a choice about where he lives for eternity!"

"We'll do everything we can to keep him here."

"Like you did with Purgatory?!"

"You don't understand."

"Then tell me!"

Taraju stared at the ground as he sat up. "Afriti was Aiheu's mate. He loved her more than we can understand. He still does. And he gave her two cubs. One was Mano, and the other was Erevu. The two cubs didn't even get to see each other before their parents separated. Afriti left and created Hell, and took Erevu with her and renamed him Mwovu. She didn't want any reminders of Heaven.

"But Afriti's haunted Aiheu ever since. He loves her dearly, and his son. He let things lean her way, hoping she'd come back if he showed her just how much he loved her. And she exploited that. The gods finally realized that and stopped being so lenient. But she still wants more, and Aiheu still loves her."

"Heart-breaking," said Fujo bitterly. "It only goes to show that he's a fool. That all the gods—"

"Is there anything you wouldn't do for Taabu?" Taraju asked quietly. Fujo was silent. "I know what's going on isn't right," said Taraju. "But _I_ can't do anything. I must obey the gods."

"You nearly beat the crap out of Dad when he was bringing up those memories—"

"That wasn't me! I've changed, Fujo. I can't be what I was. When Jadi tore me apart, he took away my roar. I don't even know if I have a growl left." Taraju sounded ashamed.

"Then I'm on my own?" asked Fujo angrily. "That's it, is it?"

"Fujo, I'll try. Really."

"No one is going to do anything, are they?" Just give Afriti more and more, is that it?" He turned to walk away.

"Fujo, please—"

"No!" Fujo said, turning around so he was nose to nose with Taraju. "I am going to get Nafsi out of there, and there is no one in Heaven or Hell that will stop me!"

Taraju sighed. "Alright. But let me help. Please."

"By doing what? Calling the malaiki to stop me?"

"Fujo, I won't stop you."

"'I can't help it.'"

"Please, Fujo. Just give me a chance. I've been doing all I can to make sure Nafsi is given the right thing. Let me help."

"And what exactly is 'the right thing' you want to for him?"

"I want to bring him back to life."

Fujo was silent. Finally he said, "And how am I supposed to believe you?"

"You used to trust me—"

"I trusted Taraju. He would have already broken in and taken Nafsi, or would be sitting in Purgatory for trying. You're Ilemi. You can't talk them into letting him go, your Shininess. You're going to have to do something."

"I'll try."

"That's it? You'll try?"

"It's all I can do, Fujo. Try."

Fujo stared at Taraju in amazement, then shook his head. "What have they done to you, brother?"

oOo

"Pathetic," growled Afriti, looking around at the plentiful, lush savannah she was standing in. "And this is the most they can offer, is it?" She turned toward the others, seeing them look around with distaste and scorn as well. "Well, Mwovu?"

"They might as well give us one of those barren rooms you've told me about," said the lion, disgust obvious in his voice.

"We could arrange it for you if you'd like it, sir," said Marim, the lion Illuminati who was leading Afriti and her party.

"Don't be a fool," spat Mwovu.

"The Illuminati can't help it," said a sleek-furred cheetah who was looking over a healthy, well-grown acacia.

"Aiheu instructed me to give you whatever you want," said Marim, his helpful spirit somewhat dulled.

"What I want is Nafsi and to be out of this pit," said Afriti.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm sure Aiheu is moving as quickly as possible—" Marim fell silent at the piercing looks he received from numerous animals.

"Leave," ordered Afriti. "Get out of my sight."

"Ma'am," said Marim reasonably, "if there's anything I can do—"

"—it is _leaving_."

"Shall I tell Aiheu you're pleased with the accommodations?"

"You may tell him that we find it abhorrent, and insulting that we are expected to stay in such filth," snarled Afriti. "Now _leave!_"

Marim hurried left through a portal. Afriti looked around at the lush settings again and scowled. She leapt upon a rock that rose above the grass level and lay down. "Hellhole," she muttered, hearing her son come up behind her. "Who came up with that term?"

"We obviously know who they favored," said Mwovu, looking at the sun slowly setting in the sky.

"Even the poorest of animals have this," said Afriti bitterly.

"It's only a few days, Mother," said Mwovu. "At most."

"At most," growled Afriti. "An hour here is too long. Don't tell me you're enjoying it here?"

"Less that you are, I imagine. There isn't enough darkness in this world. I'd even take a cave."

Afriti smiled. "The irony is if you hadn't trapped away your daughter in that crystal prison of hers, we might not even be in this position."

"Mamoja was reckless. That kingdom of hers was attracting far too much attention."

"Just a few thousand more souls, though . . ."

"She wanted to kill you, Mother. She wanted to take your place."

"And you took away the fun of letting me have a challenge," said Afriti. "I was almost bored."

"The goddess of chaos, bored? Mother, you only need ask ideas. Wars, disease, famine, drought . . ." Mwovu's eyes seemed to come to life at the mention of the disasters, almost as if he was watching them take place himself. "Glorious suffering."

"I'm afraid I'll never have quite your lust for widespread suffering. Doing it personally is just more appealing."

"But the screaming, and terror, and _chaos_ . . ." Mwovu grinned evilly, then had the grin wiped off his face. "And here I am, unable to use any of these ideas."

"Think on it," advised his mother.

"But you must know what I'm talking about, Mother," said Mwovu excitedly.

"Afriti looked to her son with a smile. "Of course I do. But tell me, have you bothered to go closer to the incident once you are finished? Try it. Watch a mate bring its loved one back onto the shore, or watch a cub find its buried, dying mother." Afriti laid her head down on her paws, smiling. "That is what chaos is about. Not just the destruction and sorrow, but how it tears apart those foolish mortals so easily. Remember, I've been at this much longer than you."

"I'll try it, Mother."

Afriti's eyes moved to her son. They roved over his powerful body, up to his hate-filled, merciless eyes. He seethed with hate; Afriti could practically see it. With hate, with malice, with what so many animals would define as pure evil. A dark aura almost glowed from him at times like this, when he was happiest from delighting in pain and misfortune.

_He would make a wonderful heir_, thought Afriti. _One I would be proud to have succeed me_. _It's a pity he'll never live to see that day_.

He couldn't see it, of course. He would have to be destroyed. Not killed, not broken, but obliterated. And Afriti would start again with another animal. She knew the cycle would continue until one of her pupils would betray her. And then she would die, and showing through the hatred and rage of betrayal, and betrayal, there would be a sliver of triumph at creating an even greater evil than herself.

It would be very difficult to find a replacement for her son, a lion who was a true god, who had the blood of the two most powerful beings in this world running through his veins. He was one who knew what hatred truly was, having lived in nothing else his whole life. A very difficult animal to replace.

She thought Nafsi would fit the bill perfectly.

"Tell me, Mwovu," Afriti said, coming out of her reverie, "do you ever have thoughts of betrayal?"

"No, Mother."

"Honestly."

"A few. But I would never do such a thing."

"Why?"

Mwovu smiled. "I still have more to learn from you. I would never get rid of something that was still of use to me, especially not something like yourself."

Both knew Mwovu's next thought, however. _And when you are of no use to me, Mother, that is when you shall die_.

oOo

Afriti and her group were ushered into the gods' throne room. The gods had done away with the varying levels of thrones, instead sitting on the ground, their thrones behind them. Afriti and the others sat as well. There were a few moments of silence before Afriti said bluntly, "Give us Nafsi."

"I am afraid we cannot do that," said Aiheu. "Nafsi holds too much power."

"He cannot stay here," said a wild dog on Afriti's side.

"And why not?" asked Fela, the tigress.

"He yearns to come to us," said Mwovu. "Leave him here, and he will be a danger. You say you are proud of the peace in your kingdom. Nafsi will shatter that peace. He will kill, he will murder, and you will beg for us to take him."

"Give him to us now," said Afriti. "It would be the kindest thing. We will give him what he wants."

"Hate? Misery?" said Roh'kash bitterly.

"Freedom. He is not filled with goodness, he is filled with evil. He draws his strength and power from his lust for evil. It is what he was born from."

"Good things may come from bad events," noted a crocodile god.

"And we have yet to see something purely good come from any bad event," said Afriti. It seemed that she was to do the talking. It wasn't completely surprising, as she was the leader of her group of gods. "Can you deny that?" Three was silence among the gods. "Nafsi was born in darkness, died in darkness, and is meant to flourish forever in darkness."

"No one knows why he dies," said Rahimu, a leopard. "No one knows anything about his body, or him. The malaiki don't know why he died, and they put him back together. None of us know."

Afriti smiled. "Do you really think I don't know? Do you really think Uchu could have formed him with no help? Of course we know. She was more than connected to me for centuries. She was immersed in that pool of evil, and her consciousness had been linked to it nearly her whole life. I know every facet of her mind."

Some of the gods shifted nervously. It could very well be true that Afriti told Uchu everything about how to create Nafsi. Conception and birth had taken only two months; that left ten months of Afriti whispering in Uchu's ear, telling her how to create what was possibly the greatest danger the world had ever had. She had helped build the world, and she was one of the main constructors of the animals. If she had wanted to create Nafsi, she could have told Uchu exactly how to do it.

Afriti had told Uchu nothing, of course. Nafsi's appearance was as much of a surprise to Afriti as it had to anyone else. He had been Uchu's little secret, her "gift" to the world. The gods didn't know Afriti was lying, however. They would never find out. Lying was something beyond them.

"Even so," said Mano, "Nafsi is not what any of us expected. I'm sure that's obvious. We all expected a ruthless, hungry killer."

"He is flawed," said Afriti, "and through no fault of my own. And even so, he is a formidable weapon of destruction. Even with his flaws, his true nature comes out."

"We don't need to leave him as he is," said Fela, the tigress. "We might be able to give him his full emotions—"

"You would ruin him!" said Afriti angrily, slamming a paw on the ground.

"He is not your toy," said the leopard Rahimu coldly. "You alone do not say what is best for him."

"How do you think he would deal with his new emotions?" asked Afriti. "He is comfortable with what he has. His mind has conformed to what he has. He prides himself on being logical. The irrationality the other emotions bring would eat away at him. You've seen his frustration with his loneliness—" She spat out the word—"and how he despised the irrationality it brings. He wants what he has, and for every emotion that does not fit his thinking to be removed."

"If he's so intent on logic, then why did we have to do nothing to confine him?" asked a cheetah goddess. "He went quietly, and he very nearly killed several malaiki only minutes before."

"He was scared," said the sleek-furred cheetah on Afriti's side, looking at his former mate scornfully. "At least, that's what we were told our shetani heard him say. That he was scared, and acted irrationally. That one emotion was illogical. You can't make that the example for all of his other actions. I imagine all of his other actions were perfectly logical. He only wants information before he acts. Give him that information, and he _will_ act."

"You're saying the only reason he went quietly was because he had information?" asked a gazelle god.

"He went quietly because that was the only option available to him," said the cheetah. "Give him options, give him information, and he won't simply lie there as he is now." He smiled bitterly. "Of course, we know what information _you'll_ give him."

"No one is to go in or out without explicit permission," said Aiheu.

"Whose permission?" asked Afriti coldly.

Aiheu paused, a mix of emotions seeming to flash across his eyes before he said, "Yours and mine."

Afriti suppressed an urge to spit on his face. How dare he try to come closer to her? Centuries of lies he had told her, and now he thought that simply apologizing was enough? She and the others had left for a reason: to escape the lying filth that was the gods. Afriti despised these last-ditch attempts to save their kingdom. Once Nafsi was in hell, as he should be, the gods' destruction was all but complete.

"That is one of the most foolish things I've heard," she said, anger on the edge of her voice.

"Why?" asked Aiheu simply.

"How could you possibly expect us to _agree_ on _anything?_"

"We used to," said Aiheu.

"I didn't realize that you were lying to me!" yelled Afriti. "How you were doing nothing but _using_ me!"

"We agreed then, we can agree now. We have to come to an agreement about Nafsi," said Aiheu. "We might as well start here."

"We despise being in this wretched place!" said Afriti, her anger once again on the edge of her voice. "We will not tolerate anything that will make out stay longer!"

"Aiheu," said an elephant god quietly, "you never told any of us this."

"We could be here for centuries," said Fela "It would be better to just make permission to see Nafsi either yours or Afriti's."

"No," said Aiheu.

"Aiheu—"

"_No_."

"My friend," said Rahimu, "you are not the only god."

"You made me your leader."

"We might be regretting that—"

"I am the most powerful, which is why I lead."

"Aiheu—"

"Both of us," said Aiheu firmly. "Or Nafsi will never have a visitor."

There was silence among the gods. This would be discussed later. It was true Aiheu was the leader, but the gods as a group controlled Heaven, not him. This was almost a misuse of power, and would have been if the gods hadn't known Aiheu's motives.

"Of course," said Mwovu smoothly, "he won't need any visitors. All he needs is to come home. With us."

"He has no home yet," said Mano.

"His home is with us. We would give him whatever he desired. He would be—pleased with what we could give him. There is nothing here among you. You sit on your thrones, doing nothing but listen to the pleas of animals. We offer him the power to do whatever he wished."

"How can you expect him to be happy in Hell?" asked an ostrich god. "How would you expect him to be happy anywhere? We don't know what would please him."

"But we're willing to find out," said Mwovu. We can give him anything. We can give him whatever he desires. I doubt any of you would be able to give him his parents, for one."

There was silence. None of the gods could violate the laws of Purgatory, not without severe consequences, ones that might be the downfall of Heaven. Both Jadi and Uchu would stay in Purgatory, and would most likely escape the torture the way most of the animals in Purgatory did: the Black Line, a direct path to Hell. The line stared in only three years. In three years Jadi and Uchu would most likely be gone.

"Nafsi has as much strength and power as any of us," said Fela, seemingly randomly. The others stared at her. "We've been beating around that this entire time, "said the tigress. "That's what this is about, isn't it? We don't care where he's happy; we care whose side he's on. His strength could change the balance of power. He could either bring forth the war or prolong the wait for countless centuries."

"And?" asked Afriti. "He has the powers of a god, yes. Or at least that's what it seems. What matters is that he belongs with _us_. He had no place in Heaven."

"I believe there is good in him," said Aiheu.

'There is nothing but evil!" declared Afriti. "He is nothing but power. He has no place in this kingdom of weakness. He must come with us."

"You don't know where he belongs, Afriti," said Roh'kash. The hyena shook her head. "Nor do I. We don't know if he would have left with you. We don't know if he would be with us, either. We have no way of telling."

"Then what do you propose?" asked Afriti, "That we lock him away forever?"

"I think he should be able to choose where he wants to stay. Give him a choice between us and you."

"There is nothing for him to decide on but the lies of Hell he's grown up with," said Afriti.

"Then w will give him both sides," Roh'kash said. "An animal from us, and one from you."

"And who is to speak to Nafsi first?" asked a wild dog on Afriti's side.

"Whichever time you would like, you may speak," said Aiheu.

"We will speak after you, then," said Afriti.

And it was over. There was nothing left to be said.

There was a pause, and Aiheu said, "Very well." A rectangle opened behind Afriti's parry. "Your quarters are open to you," said Aiheu. Afriti and the others left, going back to decide who would speak, as if it was actually necessary to do that. The gods slowly dispersed, knowing there would be matters to take care of, and would choose a representative later.

The entire affair, which should have lasted days by anyone's guess, had taken less than a half-hour. No one had expected the issue to go anywhere, but suddenly it was up to Nafsi. The entire meeting had been civil the entire way through. No one had expected any of this.

Of course, no one had expected Nafsi, either.

oOo

It was a daily routine. Fujo walked into the visiting room and saw the malaiki look up. "Yes?" the malaiki asked.

Fujo wondered why he even bothered. The answer never changed. "I'd like to see Jadi." The same thing, ever since Jadi had died a few days ago. Fujo went there at least three times every day. And it had been the same answer every single time.

A rectangular object appeared before the malaiki, one that was bound around hundreds of other white rectangles. The malaiki flipped through the rectangles and finally stopped.

"I'm sorry," it said. "Not yet."

Fujo sighed. "Thanks anyway." He turned to go.

"Sir!" said the malaiki, just before Fujo left. Fujo turned around. "You can see him now. His status just changed."

"What?"

"It changed. His malaiki has cleared him for visitors, just now. Would you like to see him?"

"Of course I want to see him!" said Fujo. "Bring him in!"

The malaiki smiled. "Yes, sir." It disappeared.

Fujo stood waiting for the portal to Purgatory to open and for Jadi to walk through. He hadn't talked to his son in five years. All he had done was watch the misery and pain Jadi had inflicted on the entire kingdom. His son had been in Purgatory for days. What would he be like? But most of all, would he love Fujo?

A blank rectangle appeared on the far side of the dark room. A pleading voice drifted into the room. "Please . . . please, just no more . . . please . . ."

"Out." The voice was cold, ruthless.

A dark form was visible through the portal. It became clearer as it walked toward and finally emerged from the rectangle. It was a lion, a black-maned lion with blood-red eyes. Jadi. Fujo stared at his son, Jadi's head hung low. Jadi looked up at Fujo miserably. Fujo realized his own breathing had quickened.

"Jadi . . ." Fujo said softly. There was a silence.

"Is this real?" Jadi finally asked.

"Yes," said Fujo. "Yes, it is." He walked toward Jadi, almost running. He stopped, just before the halfway point of the room, a thought striking him. No, they couldn't possibly be that cruel . . .

Fujo stretched out a paw and found it stopping as it pressed against something solid. The invisible barrier was there, separating Jadi from him.

"No," whispered Fujo. "It's not fair." He slammed a paw against the barrier as hard as he could. "It's not fair!" he yelled. To be separated like this, when all he wanted to do was see his son . . . Fujo felt a tear slide down his face. "It's not fair," he whispered.

Fujo looked up at Jadi. "Father," said Jadi softly.

"Yes."

"Dad . . ." Jadi moved slowly toward Fujo, stopping as he felt his muzzle press against the barrier. "Is it real? Is it really you?"

"Yes, Jadi. It's me. It's Dad."

"You're real?"

"Yes. It's me. Dad."

"Dad . . ." Tears began to slide down Jadi's face. "Dad, I'm so sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

"It's okay, Jadi," said Fujo. He pressed a paw against the wall miserably, as if he could just push it down.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry." Jadi looked up at Fujo, his blood-red eyes wide and scared. "Do you love me?"

"Wha—Jadi, of course I love you."

"You mean it?" pressed Jadi desperately. "Tell me you mean it."

"Of course I mean it," Fujo said.

"You're real?" The desperation and fear in his voice scared Fujo. Jadi had only been in Purgatory a few days. "You're not one of her tricks? You're real?"

"Yes, Jadi. I'm real. I love you."

"Dad . . . she—she was lying?"

"Jadi, I love you. Truly and honestly."

"Dad!" cried Jadi. He pressed both forepaws against the barrier, rising up on it. "You have to get me out," he begged. "I can't go back in there."

"Jadi, I . . ." Fujo looked toward the ground. "You can't come out. I can't get you out."

"No! Dad, I'm sorry for what I did to you, I'm sorry I was a bad son, I'm sorry for what I did to the kingdom! I mean it! Please, just let me out! I can't stay in! I can't . . ."

"Jadi, I have no control over your stay in there."

"Dad, please . . . I can't take three million years of this."

"Jadi, I can't get you out. I'm sorry. You don't know how much."

"Dad, I have to get out. I have to." Panic, hysteria.

"Jadi, you have to stay—"

"No!" yelled Jadi. He began to hammer one of his paws against the barrier. "No, _no_, NO! His paws slid off the wall to the floor, Jadi sobbing as he followed his paws.

"Jadi—Jadi, listen—"

"Dad, please, just get me—"

"Jadi, _listen!_ Please, just listen to me. Listen." Fujo's voice was soft, reassuring. "Listen." Jadi quieted down, still lying in a pathetic heap on the floor, crying, but gently. "You'll be out soon. Trust me. Just—" He couldn't say it. "It's just—" He literally couldn't say it. The words "ten years refused to com out. He couldn't speak those words; not in that context, not here. He gods wouldn't allow it. "It'll be over sooner than you think."

Jadi finally raised his head miserably to look at his father. He seemed to have calmed down a bit. "That's it?" he asked. "Soon?" He shook his head. "But what's soon when you have an eternity to wait?"

"Jadi, I want to tell you. Really. But I can't."

"Dad, I have to get out."

"Jadi, it's—it's for your own good."

"_My own good?!_" asked Jadi, hysteria entering his voice.

"Yes," said Fujo, a slight note of disbelief entering his voice.

"How is _this_—any of this—good for me?!"

It was a very good question. Fujo was silent before he said, tenderness in his voice, "Remember when you were a cub, Jadi? How—how it used to be so much fun? Me and you?" Jadi seemed to relax, remembering when he was little, scampering up to his father whenever he could. "It'd be like that again," said Fujo with a smile.

"What?" asked Jadi, his head jerking up as if he was snapping out of a reverie.

"You'll be like you were. Happy, and playful. With—"

"_Weakness!_"

"What?" asked Fujo, stunned by the sudden viciousness and hate that had sprung into Jadi's voice.

"I will _not_ be weak," snarled Jadi, standing up angrily. "I don't care how long she tortures me. I will _not_ be weak!" His face had formed into an angry scowl.

"Jadi, that's not weakness—"

"It is!" Jadi yelled. "Look at what it brought you! Death, and at the paws of your son! I loved watching you die, Father, it is one of the sweetest memories I have."

It was one of the last things Fujo wanted to hear. "You don't regret it? None of it?" he asked in disbelief.

"My only regret is that I had only one father to kill."

Fujo bowed his head, closing his eye tightly as he tried to keep tears from coming out. "You don't want any of that back?" he asked softly. 'None of those times we had together? When you would come with me around the kingdom, and we'd always find something you'd enjoy? You don't want that back?"

"No," growled Jadi firmly after a slight, nearly unnoticeable moment's hesitation. He looked away. "If I hadn't been weak, I never would have wasted a second on that."

The words stung, just like so many times Fujo had remembered them stinging; Jadi's youth was spent detesting his father, despising even the air Fujo breathed. Fujo said, after a lengthy pause, "Well . . . if it means anything, it wasn't wasted to me."

Fujo thought he saw Jadi's face soften very, very slightly.

"Jadi, I . . . love you. I really, truly, honestly do. I want to help you. I don't want to lose you."

"Then get me out of here," said Jadi, his voice halfway between the snarl it had just been and the begging plea it had been before.

Fujo looked at the ground, at a loss of what to say. Finally, "What do they do to you in there?" Jadi looked away from his father, fear etching into his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jadi was silent. Fujo was about to speak again when Jadi said, "She . . . she . . ." He took a deep breath and began to spill out to Fujo his torture, about how his malaiki had killed him over and over, making what was only a handful of times seem much more through the excruciating pain, before deciding it was enough. His torture was to be one of solitude, of slow insanity through solitude. Fujo saw this, saw how there was no hope for yet another prisoner as he heard how she filled Jadi with despair, with loneliness, without even the comfort of knowing he was loved. Fujo watched, unable to comfort his son as Jadi wept, shaking uncontrollably.

Jadi finally fell silent and stared at his father with pleading eyes. Fujo quietly said, "Malaiki."

Jadi gasped as the malaiki appeared. "Get away from me!" he screamed. "You won't do this to me!" He backed away. "I won't let you do this to me!"

"Jadi, it's okay—"

"Dad, get away—"

"Jadi, it's alright. It's okay." Jadi watched, horrified as his father stepped closer to the malaiki. "Lower the wall," said Fujo firmly.

"Sir," said the malaiki, "that's not the wisest thing to—"

"Dad, _get away!_" yelled Jadi.

"Silence, prisoner!" the malaiki ordered.

"Don't you _dare_," snarled Fujo, sticking his face as far up to the malaiki's as he could, "call him that _again!_"

"Sir, my actions are only to speed along—"

"He's going to be in here for----whether he likes it or not!" yelled Fujo. "Now lower that barrier!"

"Very well, sir."

Fujo turned to Jadi and walked toward him. Sure enough, the barrier had disappeared. "Jadi," said Fujo as he wrapped a foreleg around his son, pulling him close.

"Dad, she's going to kill us . . . She wants to kill us all . . ." Jadi's voice was plainly terrified as he wrapped a foreleg of his own around his father.

"Shh . . . It's okay . . . It'll be okay . . ."

"Dad, I can't go back. I can't."

Fujo pulled Jadi closer. He had to go back, Fujo knew that. But there was nothing Fujo could do. "Malaiki," he said quietly.

"Yes, sir?" he heard.

"I want to take his place."

"You can't, sir."

"Then put me in there with him."

"No, sir. You can't go any further than this room."

"Why, dammit?!" Fujo exploded, letting go of Jadi and turning toward the malaiki. "Why?! No one should be in there—"

"Sir, I didn't make that rule."

"You can bend them!"

"No break them. There are other animals in your position—"

"There is no one in my position!" screamed Fujo. "I am about to lost three members of my family to Hell, and I'm going to make sure I've done everything I can to stop it!"

"Sir, you can't replace him—"

"Then what good are you?" yelled Fujo. "Leave!"

"Sir—"

"Leave! Now!"

The malaiki vanished. Fujo hung his head and slowly began to weep. Jadi watched him, shocked by the conversation.

"Gods _damn it!!_" Fujo screamed, slamming a paw onto the ground.

"Dad . . ."

Fujo turned his tear-streaked face to Jadi. "Jadi, I love you."

"I know." Jadi sat down next to his father. "I don't want to go back."

"I don't want you to, either."

"Dad . . . where's Uchu?" Fujo was blindsided by the question. He looked away, feeling guilty. "She's . . . she's not . . ." Fujo nodded slowly. "No . . ." said Jadi, horrified. "And . . . Nafsi? Is he . . ."

"No," said Fujo quietly.

"Could you bring him in the next time you come?"

Fujo didn't know how to put it. "He's . . . being bartered over."

"What?"

"By the gods. Afriti wants to take him to Hell."

"Dad, I have to do something—he's my son!"

"I'll do everything I can," promised Fujo. He rose to leave.

"Dad, don't go," pleaded Jadi.

Fujo didn't look at this son. He didn't want it to be any harder. "Jadi, I'll visit you every day. I promise."

"Dad, don't leave me alone with her," begged Jadi. Fujo walked toward the exit. "Dad!" Jadi ran after him. "Dad! The portal closed in front of him. He was trapped in the visiting room, the only place to go being toward her.

Fujo wept silently as he walked away from the portal. He'd learned yet another harsh truth about Purgatory: it didn't just punish the ones inside.

oOo

Aiheu stepped into Nafsi's room quietly. The malaiki and shetani came to rigid attention. As soon as the shetani saw who it was, it relaxed all signs of courtesy. Aiheu walked past them to the still cub on the floor. He stood, staring at Nafsi, thinking of how harmless he seemed.

"Nafsi?" he asked quietly.

Nafsi brought his head up to look at Aiheu. "Yes?" he asked, his face blank.

Aiheu didn't know quiet what to say. He was supposed to convince someone that he didn't know, someone _nobody_ knew. "My name is Aiheu," he finally said.

"The god?"

"Yes."

Nafsi stared at Aiheu, neither of them saying anything. Nafsi finally said, "What do you want?"

"I . . . I'm here to convince you to stay in Heaven."

"I have a choice?"

"Yes. You may stay here, or you may go to Hell."

"That's it? My only options?"

"Yes."

"Right now I'm not exactly leaning toward Heaven. It isn't exactly the paradise it's said to be."

"I'm sorry about your—confinement—"

"Imprisonment."

"I assure you," said Aiheu hurriedly, "you may have whatever you wish."

"Including leaving this place?"

"I'm afraid we cannot allow you that."

"I am your prisoner," stated Nafsi. "All I did was attempt to protect myself."

"Protect?" asked Aiheu, confused. "Oh! No, you are not here for your actions in the restoration room. The malaiki who was injured is whole again."

"Then why am I here?" demanded Nafsi.

"For others' protection."

It took Nafsi only an instant to discover what he meant. "You don't trust me."

"I would like to."

"You think I'm a killer who would do whatever he pleased if inside your kingdom, and not pay any attention to what you would say."

Aiheu was slightly stunned by the bluntness Nafsi used, unaware that it was one of his nuances he had, one Nafsi didn't quite have under control, that said he felt the animal he was speaking to was a fool.

"In a word, yes," said Aiheu. "You see, we can't control your actions, so—"

"You don't _understand_ me," said Nafsi coldly. "And that frightens you."

"It was unnerving, how Nafsi could seem to read his mind. Aiheu knew that simply came from the hyper-intelligence Nafsi possessed. Knowing where it came from, however, didn't make it any less unnerving. "Yes," said Aiheu. "But I really do want to trust you. If you stay in Heaven, you'd have your freedom. You could meet your family again, and stay as long as you like. You'd never want for anything—"

"I want _answers_."

"Answers?"

"I want to know things. I want to know everything."

"You only need ask."

A pained look crossed Nafsi's face. "But I don't know what to ask. I don't understand this place."

"It's very much like your home," said Aiheu. 'But there are different—laws that govern why things may move."

"It's too slow."

"What?"

"It's too slow. Isn't there some way to learn faster?"

"No," said Aiheu. "Experience is the only teacher. It was the same at your home."

"But everything came—naturally. I don't understand how these things work. I've been sitting and thinking and nothing makes sense."

Aiheu smiled. This was something he understood. "Most animals don't have your problem. They just use Heaven's resources, and don't wonder. You want to know how it works, though. Completely."

"Knowing I'm different doesn't solve my problem," said Nafsi irritably. He needed to get out of this place. He felt as if he was going insane. The blank whiteness of the room gave him no way to judge distance, height, rate of movement, anything. For all he knew, he could be falling millions of miles an hour, or rushing up at the same speed. What _were_ malaiki, exactly? And shetani? How were those portals made to and from this room made?

Nafsi didn't know the word stir-crazy, though he definitely knew the meaning. He just needed to do _something_. Anything to break the circles his thoughts kept driving around in.

"There are others like you," said Aiheu reassuringly. "I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help." Nafsi was quiet. "If you'd like to switch the subject—"

"You want me to stay in Heaven. Why?"

"I'd . . . I don't want to see you used to bring the destruction of billions."

"Explain?"

"Afriti wants your power to help her destroy Heaven. With your aid, the Black Line may only need to make one more trip to give her enough strength to overwhelm us."

"And you want me to destroy Afriti."

"No. The last thing I would want is her . . . gone."

"Her?"

"Yes. Afriti was my mate. She left after we had—misunderstandings."

"Just 'misunderstandings?'"

I accidentally insulted her. I thought she had forgiven me, but she came to talk to me about it weeks later. And there was a lioness who wanted information I had, and disguised herself as my cub. My illegitimate cub. Afriti wouldn't stand for my 'disloyalty.' She took one of our sons and left forever."

Aiheu looked truly miserable to Nafsi. His grandmother had taught him to comfort sad animals. Nafsi didn't think that rule applied to animals that were holding him against his will. "Did you lock her away, too?" he asked caustically.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand love."

"It's an emotion that's irrational at best. It's useless for any practical purpose."

"There are many things that are comforting, but not needed." Aiheu paused. "There is only one thing that I can offer you, other than freedom in Heaven. A heart."

"Mother didn't leave that part out," Nafsi said coldly.

"A metaphorical heart. Feelings. I will be honest. I am not sure if we are capable of giving them to you. But if you stayed, we would try our hardest."

Aiheu looked for something in Nafsi's features. His face was unreadable. "It's interesting," said Nafsi finally.

"Please," said Aiheu. "Think about it." He left through the portal, the rectangle closing behind him.

Nafsi stared at where Aiheu had left for a few moments before lying down and closing his eyes again. Freedom to move about, friends to be with, and a heart to share with them. It was more than interesting. It was tempting.

oOo

Fela looked up as a malaiki entered her personal jungle. "Ma'am," it announced, "Ilemi to see you."

"Bring him in," she said, turning over and sitting up. The malaiki disappeared into the foliage and moments later Taraju emerged, looking around him in wonder. Fela smiled. Few animals had actually seen a jungle before. "Yes, Taraju?" she asked.

Taraju seemed to notice her for the first time. "Oh, ma'am, uh . . . I came to see you about Nafsi."

"What, no small talk?" asked Fela with a smile.

Taraju smiled nervously. "Sorry, ma'am. How are you?"

The tiger goddess lied down. "Not too bad. Worried, obviously."

Taraju remained standing at attention. "About anything in particular, ma'am?"

"Oh, just generally about which way Nafsi will swing." She rolled over onto her back, embarrassing Taraju further. He felt as if he was seeing something he shouldn't.

"Oh, uh . . . I see."

Fela lifted her head to look at him. "You can lie down if you want." Taraju looked around uncomfortably, then sat, and finally lied down. Fela grinned. "Isn't that better?"

"It doesn't feel right, ma'am."

"_Fela_. Not ma'am." Taraju looked even more uncomfortable. "Or you could choose not to."

"Mano would never allow it, ma'am—Fela."

"Mano," dismissed Fela, "has never learned the concept of relaxation. Or humility."

"A god doesn't know humility?"

"Oh, he can be humble enough. But only when the occasion absolutely warrants it." She noticed how Taraju was looking around the jungle uncomfortably. "Don't worry," she said. "It's not a real jungle. Nothing's going to attack you."

"It's not that, ma'am. It's just . . ."

"Foreign?"

"Yes."

"Now you know how all of us poor tigers feel about your savannah." Fela looked back at Taraju. "In fact, this is what you were nursing."

"Ma'am?"

"_Fela_."

"Fela." Taraju still found the name uncomfortable.

"Remember how you were cultivating the Outlands?"

Taraju looked away "I'm not proud of what I did, ma'am."

Fela didn't bother to correct him. "I understand. But Taraju, you were making a jungle."

"What? But it—it looked like the Pridelands . . ."

"What were you most proud of? What did you work hardest for?"

". . . My trees. But they were acacias—"

"All of them?"

"No," Taraju said quietly. "There were others. I'd never seen them before."

"Your grandparents had. They first made love in a jungle." She looked up at Taraju's stunned face. "Or was that too much information?"

"How do you even know that?"

"I've taken a lot of interest in you, Taraju. Ever since that forest, actually. You did a wonderful job, even if I didn't quite approve of your—methods. You were very efficient."

"I don't know whether to say 'thank you' or be ashamed, ma'a—Fela."

"You're not that killer anymore, Taraju. But I've been watching you, looking over your family history. You come from a very long line of nobility. You would undoubtedly have been a great king, Taraju."

"Thank you, Fela." Taraju lied fully down on the floor of the jungle, spreading out, the ground somewhat cooler than he was used to and the air more humid.

"So, what did you come here for again?" asked Fela.

"Nafsi."

Fela chuckled softly as she laid her head back. "Isn't it amazing how one animal has us all in such a fuss?"

"Fela, I want to take him back to the land of the living."

"Do you, now? You want to send him home? If they feared him before, I wonder what they'd think now."

"Fela—"

"Just thinking out loud. Of course, I understand your logic; he's hardly lived at all."

"Exactly, Fela. He's only been a cub, and he's been stuck in that body for his entire life. There are experiences you have when growing up, and having grown up—what?"

Something he had said had set Fela laughing. "Listen to yourself, Taraju. 'Experienced things'—you've 'experienced' just as much as him." Taraju looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "And there is a perfectly good word for that; you might as well use it. Sex."

"Isn't it a rather crass term, ma'am?"

"Oh, so I'm 'ma'am' again, am I?" asked Fela with a smile. Taraju, I am blunt. I say what I mean. Just because Nafsi hasn't had sex—"

"Ma'am, it's not just sex. It's _life_. He's never loved, never lusted, never wanted, never lost—"

"He can't do any of those things, Taraju. He has not heart. We have offered him one if he stays. He can love here, experience here. Wouldn't that be enough?"

"Ma'am, there's something to life that you don't have here. You can get thrills in life. You know you'll be fine here. You won't die; you'll just go through some pain and a malaiki will heal you. There's no injury, no death. There's nothing no lose, nothing to risk."

"Loss isn't happy, Taraju. Why would anyone want to feel that?"

"Ma'am . . . it's just a part of life. I don't know why, but without loss, life would seem a bit . . . bland."

Fela smiled. "I don't know, Taraju. I've never lived. At least, not that way." She turned onto her stomach and sat up. "Let me tell you something private. Something you can't tell anyone."

"Ma'am?"

"Something Mano would never approve of. You can keep a secret, right?"

"Ma'am—Fela—I'm not sure that's wise."

"Taraju, you need to know. Either that, or leave."

"It's that important?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

"Taraju, I have no soul."

"I'm sorry?"

"I have no soul. Rahimu has no soul. Aiheu has no soul. Or Roh'kash, or Mano. Afriti and all of her friends have no soul. But most importantly, Nafsi has no soul."

"Fela, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. Let me explain. An animal has a soul. It is the source of their courage, their hatred, their love. It's also something an animal must have. Without it, quite simply, they die."

"I—I don't have a soul?"

Fela shook her head. "In the immediate sense, no. We have your soul. Both your half, and Akasare's. It is with the soul of all departed animals living in Heaven. Their power protects Heaven, and that is what Afriti must destroy to assault Heaven."

"But if every animal has a soul, why doesn't Nafsi?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know if Uchu stripped it away accidentally when she was working through his creation, or if she actually knew that animals without souls can't die."

"What? But Nafsi—"

"Died, yes. But do you know what death is, Taraju?"

"It's—it's when your body can't work anymore—"

"Exactly. Your mind may retain all the power it wants, but your soul's residence is in your body. And when your body becomes too weak, it can't house your soul's power any longer. Your soul separates violently from your body. That's death."

"Just a violent separation?"

"Yes. You die. The shock is too much for your mind to bear. Death comes."

"What if it wasn't done quickly? Did you miss that in Nafsi?"

"No. We watched Nafsi as soon as Uchu died, and Jadi was next. He died far too quickly for his soul to leave slowly. He would still be alive if his soul would have left slowly. When that happens, the result is insanity."

"What? Why?"

"You are a sort of triangle, Taraju. Your body is inhabited by both soul and mind, and your soul needs your mind for guidance, just as your mind needs your soul for strength. When your soul leaves, the mind is driven to insanity. It knows something crucial is missing, because you see, your mind is utterly dependant on the strength your soul provides. It will do anything to avoid insanity. If it can, it will follow your soul. And it did. All the way to Heaven."

"But—if Nafsi's dead, and he doesn't have a soul, how is that possible?"

"It doesn't really matter know. But the reason I'm telling you this is so you realize the gravity of the situation. When Afriti smashes through that barrier of souls, she's going to destroy them. And how do you think everyone's going to feel?"

"Oh . . . Oh, _gods_ . . ."

"Exactly. Your mind followed your soul to Heaven, the attachment was so great. What do think will happen when all bonds between mind and soul are destroyed?"

"Mass insanity . . ."

"We hope not. For the ones who have lost their souls most recently, say, in the last one hundred years, they would be better off being destroyed in the ensuing battle. It would take centuries of treatment to restore their minds. But the longer ago you died, the less of a connection your body has with your soul. You've been separated from it longer. Every animal will feel something, we are sure of that. But what do animals without souls have to feel?"

"So Nafsi would come into Heaven and start slaughtering," said Taraju grimly.

"If Afriti had him yes. His power is enormous. I can only imagine what it would have been like if he was a tiger."

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"His power is directly proportional to his physical strength, which in turn also feeds off his power. Sort of a vicious cycle. It was why, when he was going to have his sudden growth spurt, there would be so much more power inside of him. They haven't told you that?"

"Tigers aren't any stronger than lions."

"Are you sure?" asked Fela with a smile. "If the lions didn't outnumber us, I would be leader of Heaven, not Aiheu."

Taraju shook his head with a smile. "No. Lions are meant to rule. Tigers are just like leopards and cheetahs."

Fela smiled evilly. "You sure of that? Alright, here's something. You came here because of Nafsi, wanting to let him be brought back to life, correct?"

"I didn't say that exactly."

"Taraju."

"Yes, that's what I wanted."

"And I, as you do now, know the stakes if he does live again. It will only prolong this mess, and once he finds out what a cruel place the world is, he will undoubtedly choose Afriti. So here's the deal," said Fela, holding out a paw. "If you managed to push my paw to the ground, you'll have all of my support, I swear. I'll try to convince the others. But if I push your paw above your head, you'll drop this idea of him returning to life."

"Ma'am?"

"You said lions were stronger, didn't you? Here's your chance to prove it."

"But Fela . . . you're a goddess."

"I won't cheat," she said with a smile. "Well?"

Taraju stared at her paw, then placed his on top of it. Her paw didn't move. He looked up to her face to see her smiled. He looked down at the paws and pressed down. He saw hers give slowly, being pushed toward the ground. Then, abruptly, it stopped moving down. Slowly it began moving up. Taraju pressed down harder, only slowing the movement of the paw. It passed his chest, his neck—it was up to his nose, his eyes—it was over.

Fela smiled as she let her paw drop. "I don't want to hear another word about resurrecting Nafsi," she said firmly, her smile softening the words a bit. "Understood?"

"Ma'am—"

"You agreed, Taraju."

"Yes, ma'am," said Taraju reluctantly.

"You're dismissed."

"Thank you, ma'am." Taraju bowed and started out, then stopped. "Ma'am, what is a soul like?"

"It's very much like its owner. It can share the same feelings, the same passions, the same qualities of its owner. Why?"

"Does it share—looks?"

"Why?"

"Have you thought that maybe . . . Nafsi _is_ a soul, and isn't missing one?"

Fela smiled kindly. "You are dismissed, Ilemi."

"Yes, ma'am." Taraju walked out of the jungle, back to the exit.

"Well, Nafsi?" asked Fela after Taraju had gone out of earshot. "You think he'll be a problem?"

A lion walked out of the jungle behind her. One of his forelegs was not a lion's, but a tiger's, only a small nub of it being a lion's leg. His black mane was large and thick, unlike the rest of his body, which seemed to be disfigured slightly in numerous ways.

"I think he'll follow your orders, Fela."

Fela turned to him with a smile. "You know, no one's asked your opinion in any of this."

"I didn't live that life," said the lion.

"But seeing who you are—"

"Afriti doesn't know I exist. I'd like to keep it that way."

"But think of what you could do for us—"

"No," said the lion firmly.

"But Nafsi, why?"

"Because I'm a somebody. Why should I care about a nobody?"

"That's awfully harsh," said Fela. "After all, he's—"

"He's nothing of mine. Please, Fela, I don't want to talk about this."

Fela sighed reluctantly. "Very well. If you insist, Nafsi."

Afriti walked through the rectangle and nodded to the shetani. She gave no sign that she even noticed the malaiki. She walked toward Nafsi, seeing a small black creature in front of him. She sat down and watched from a distance.

Nafsi had been pouring information into the animal for hours. It had no other function other than to sit and listen. Nafsi knew that the reason he got nowhere in his thinking was due to the fact he had no outside influence. He kept on going around and around in the same circle, not discovering anything new.

Hence the animal. Nafsi was telling it everything he knew about Heaven and the gods, everything he had observed, all in an attempt to see if the creature could come up with a different conclusion than he had. It was a long tedious process. But the creature was inherently logical, and worked on a simple yes-no basis.

"With that information," Nafsi finally said, "is there any way for the portals to work?"

One squawk from the animal. No.

"Do you understand all of the information given."

Two squawks. Yes.

Nafsi sighed in frustration. "Is there any way for this room to exist?"

One squawk.

"Is there any way for any of this to exist?"

The animal was silent. Nafsi knew that it was unable to answer, and knew exactly why. He had been far too general with his question. The savannah he had been in previously seemed just like the savannah at home and was perfectly plausible. It was as plausible as this room was unreal. The animal was unable to answer honestly either way.

Nafsi swore and destroyed the animal, black matter enveloping the protesting creature, then disappearing, leaving no trace of anything having existed there. He didn't jump when Afriti said, "The reason you don't understand it is because Heaven doesn't use the same physics as where you come from."

Nafsi looked at her. Afriti felt as though she was being appraised. "Physics?" he asked.

Afriti smiled. "Physics control everything. You just take them for granted."

"Explain."

Afriti thought. "What happens when you push something? Like a rock?"

"It moves."

"And physics say where it moves, how fast it moves, how long it moves."

"It's . . . a set of laws?"

"Yes. They control everything. Even glorious chaos."

There was a pause in the conversation. Nafsi finally said, "You want to take me to Hell."

"Of course. I assure you, you would get much better treatment there than in Heaven."

"Why?"

Afriti smiled. "Because in Hell you can have whatever _you_ desire. If you were here, you'd be nothing better than an Illuminati. You would be a tool. I guarantee it."

"And you wouldn't use me?" asked Nafsi doubtfully.

"Oh, I would. I'd demand your allegiance. But you would be allowed whatever—and whomever—you wanted," she said with a smile.

Nafsi quickly knew what she meant as he glanced over her luscious body. He had no feelings for that yet. She must have known that. The offer was for later. "And you'd leave me just the way I am?" asked Nafsi.

"There would be some changes made. All for the better. Your power in that cub body is restricted."

"I meant my emotions."

"Yes, I would help you with those, too. Your mother did an exceptional job with you, save loneliness and fear. Those would be removed."

"So you'd tamper with me however you like?"

"I would _repair_ you, Nafsi. Your mother had a dream for you; she wanted to unleash your maximum potential."

"I know. I've seen it."

"Seen it?" asked Afriti, intrigued.

"I've had visions. Of what she meant for me to be."

"Of course. I'd almost forgotten . . . but how—?" She looked at Nafsi curiously. "Foresight occurs when one is constructed with a purpose, as you were. You see what they wanted for you. I've had some experience with it. But it's rare . . . and never with an animal . . ."

"The visions are wrong," said Nafsi. "They don't happen. They didn't happen."

Afriti smiled. "You're not what your mother intended."

"I'd already figured that out."

"Of course you had."

There was a pause in the conversation. Afriti finally said, "Come with me to Hell, and you could have whatever you want."

"So you said."

"But you only have to consider the possibilities. Armies at your command, your choice from any animal in Hell for torture or—otherwise. Unlimited power. You could have anything. Whatever you desire."

"You'd hand over Hell to me?"

Afriti smiled. "Very nearly. You would be second only to me." Nafsi looked down at the ground. "Whatever you desire," repeated Afriti.

Nafsi looked up at her. "Have you even stopped to consider what I'd want?" Afriti looked surprised by the question. "Well?"

"But it doesn't matter—"

"That wasn't the question."

Impudence was one thing Afriti wasn't used to. "No," she said, keeping her temper in check. "What do you want?"

"I don't know."

"You—don't know?"

"No."

"I see." Afriti paused. "I'm sorry, but I've been wondering—do you mind?" Nafsi stared up at her. Afriti reached toward him and tilted up his chin, then turned his head left and right. She lifted up a lip and examined Nafsi's teeth. She brought him closer and ran her paw over his body, feeling his form and an unnatural amount of muscle for a cub.

"Very nice," she said. "Good structure." Her paws traced over the swath of black fur that arched from Nafsi's right hind leg over to his left shoulder, then split to end on his left leg and underneath his jaw. Afriti's eyes opened wide. "My, Uchu certainly has surpassed herself." She traced the black fur until she tilted up Nafsi's chin to see annoyance. "Was that too demeaning?"

Nafsi knocked away her paw with his little cub one. "I'm not something to be _examined_. I am a _prince_."

Afriti smiled. "Not here you aren't. Princes are nothing in Heaven, or in Hell for that matter. Of course, you would the quite the exception." Her smile faded as she still saw Nafsi's indolent look. "Of course, that was rather rude of me. My apologies, my little prince." Afriti began to walk toward the exit. "Just remember, whatever you desire."

Nafsi watched her leave, then lied down again. Anything at all . . .

oOo

"You told her _what?_" hissed Fujo.

"I thought I could win," said Taraju as way of apology.

"She's a _goddess!_"

"She didn't cheat. I almost beat her."

"You _lost!_ And look where it got you! You promised to help Nafsi—"

"Heaven would be a good place for him. You know that."

"Nowhere is a good place for him! He's growing up without parents, without friends! He needs a second chance to _live!_"

"Who knows what Afriti would think of to get him while he lived? There are animals that go from the land of the living to Heaven and back, but they're exceptions. They aren't even supposed to do that; we just can't stop them. It's the same for Hell. Look, Nafsi's immortality is one thing we can't change. If he lives, he lives forever. He might as well do it here."

Fujo scowled at him. "I want Akasare back."

"I'm sure you think I'm a spineless weakling, but—"

"That's _exactly_ what I think! You won't do anything! Haven't you had a single bad thought?"

"Like what?"

"Like anything! Gods, you don't curse, you don't cheat, you don't lie, and it's driving me insane!"

"Fujo, I'm better for this—"

"_No you are not!_" Taraju stared at his brother's face. It was an exaggeration of what Taraju had been seeing in his brother's face too often lately. Despair. Pain. Loss. "You're not better off this way, Taraju! You've turned into something you never were! You weren't meant to be this way!"

"Fujo, if there's anything I don't do like I did, it's—sin, if you want to use that word."

"Taraju, that's exactly it," said Fujo quietly. His voice bordered on the edge of tears. "You're unnatural. You're not supposed to be like this."

"Fujo—"

"You're not even going to try to do anything now, are you?"

"No. But I—"

"Oh, shut up!" Fujo turned away from his brother angrily. Taraju stared at his brother, then finally sat down. Minutes passed. Fujo finally said, "You don't even have a single dirty thought, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Fujo turned around, a grin on his face. "Just an example, have you actually noticed that Grandma is _sexy?_"

"What? Fujo!"

"It's true, and you know it. Grandpa's a very lucky lion."

"That's disgusting!"

"Wouldn't you love to get her alone some night and just—"

"That's—that's just—"

"What? _Wrong?_ Don't tell me you don't think sick, nasty thoughts—"

"Not like that!"

Fujo was struck silent. "Not like that?" he finally said quietly.

"Gods, that's _incest_, Fujo."

"What do you mean, 'not like that'?" Taraju was silent. Fujo sat down firmly. "Okay, you're going to sit there and tell your brother every naughty thing you want."

"Fujo!"

"Come on. Fantasized lately?"

"I know what you're doing."

"Great. Is it working?"

"Fujo, Jadi tore my soul apart. I'm good now."

"Are you sure there isn't a little bit of bad left in you? Any lustful tingles? Any urges to have someone you're mad at whacked?"

"Fujo—"

"Well?"

"Yes," Taraju admitted quietly.

"I knew it!" said Fujo. "Okay, what is it? And if it's Asari or Tumai, it doesn't count."

"Well . . . there are some . . . feelings . . . just toward some of the lionesses."

"That's it? Feelings?"

"You don't expect me to have actually _tried_ anything, do you? I have Asari to think of, and Tumai."

"But are you sure you should have been thinking those thoughts?" said Fujo with an evil grin.

"No. And that's what scares me. I thought Akasare was gone."

"But this is wonderful!"

"And where did you get that from in your little head?"

"Taraju, if you can think it, you can do it."

"No, Fujo, I can't. There are consequences—"

"—and you're going to forget about them. Now repeat after me." Fujo began to list off a long list of taboo, mostly monosyllabic words.

"Fujo! Stop that!" Fujo continued. "Fujo, shut up!" said Taraju smacking his brother lightly on the face.

Fujo stared at his brother in disbelief. "You hit me!"

"You wouldn't shut up!"

"Good job!"

"What?"

"Taraju, hit me again!"

"What? Are you nuts? Why would I—"

"Because you're a goddamn, no-good, cowardly piece of shit that can't—"

_Wham_.

"Ow . . ."

"Don't call me no-good _ever_ again," said Taraju, dead serious. "I am _not_ worthless."

"Taraju, I think you broke something." Fujo spat out a couple of teeth. "Oh . . . that _hurt_."

Taraju shook his head. "I shouldn't have done that. Oh, I really shouldn't have—"

"Well, now you know you can." Fujo pushed himself up. "What's breaking a promise compared to breaking a jaw?"

"Fujo, I _promised_. I can't break it. Fela's been so good to me."

"And I haven't been?"

"You asked me to do that."

"_Try_. That's all you have to do. Just _try_." Fujo moaned slightly. "Let's just find a malaiki and patch me up."

oOo

"I can't believe it," said Afriti quietly.

"Can't believe what?" asked Mwovu.

"He's an Experiment."

"What?" asked Mwovu in disbelief.

"Nafsi is an Experiment."

"But that's not possible. Are you saying that Uchu created something like him intentionally?"

"I don't think she knew what she was doing. But Nafsi bears the trace. He is undoubtedly an Experiment."

"No Experiment has ever had that much power," said Mwovu doubtfully.

"Uchu put her all into giving him power. She thought that darkness was the only kind of strength, so she gave him control of it. And because he controls darkness . . . The power he has! He consumed that entire pool of darkness. The only thing I can assume is that the body couldn't handle the influx of power. And because of it . . ."

"The body was destroyed. Congratulations, Mother, you've discovered how to kill them. And only a few thousand years too late.

"The Experiments bother us no longer, do they? They are cowering in fear. They are just as afraid as Elchakra."

"Elchakra is still alive," pointed out Mwovu. "And every one of the Mercenaries you sent after her isn't."

Afriti growled at the mention of her failure. The shadowwalker had slipped through her paws ore times than she could care to count.

"Of course," said Mwovu reflectively, "I'm sure Nafsi could get rid of her in a matter of days."

"I don't want to get rid of her. She could be an invaluable Mercenary."

"She won't change."

"Maybe she will. All you need is the right leverage."

"Nafsi is our problem, not Elchakra."

"And we can do nothing but wait now."

"You don't know which way he'll swing?" asked Mwovu.

"No. I don't know what's going through his head. Speaking of which . . ." Afriti turned to the red-tinged shetani behind her. "Draxis?"

"Yes, my queen?"

"How are you? Missing your brother?"

"Very much, my queen."

"He'll be back soon."

"Thank you, my queen. It will be nice having all four of us again."

Afriti nodded, dismissing him. "I can't believe all of the just rests on one soul."

"Strange things happen."

"Mwovu, I'm actually worried."

Mwovu smiled. "Don't worry, Mother. He'll choose us. He'd be a fool not to."


	4. The Decision

The malaiki swept the two tiles out from between him and the shetani. He placed another one in the center, as did the shetani. His lit up with nineteen purple dots, the shetani's with twenty-four green ones.

"But you're cheating," said the malaiki. "You just played that three tiles ago."

"Of course I'm cheating," grinned the shetani. He swept the two tiles out of the center towards him. "And?"

"And I suppose I shouldn't expect any less," admitted the malaiki.

The game was simple: One hundred transparent stone tiles, four sets of twenty-five in four separate colors, each tile with a number of dots on it from zero to twenty-four. The animal with the highest number won. Zeros, however, were special: played before another card, they were worthless; played after, they trumped any tile. The objective was to have all the tiles.

The malaiki slid another tile out from his stack. Technically, he shouldn't have been doing this. His duty was to watch Nafsi. Nafsi didn't need to be watched, pointed out the shetani, and the malaiki had to agree. The cub had done nothing but lie on the floor. The shetani had suggested the game. Nothing bad had happened, but every so often there was that annoying—

The malaiki sighed as he heard the lion behind him. "For the fifty-fourth time, Fujo, you can't be here." The malaiki turned to face the lion, certain that even while he did this, the shetani was arranging his own deck. He saw Fujo's head sticking through the single rectangle that connected the room to the rest of Heaven. "So leave." Fujo's head hurriedly retreated out of the rectangle, the portal closing after he was gone.

"I swear," said the shetani, "if he comes in here one more time, I'm going to stick one of these tiles up his ass."

"I'm sorry," said the malaiki, pushing the tiles in the center toward the shetani and laying down one of his own. "I must have some kind of hearing problem. Couldn't understand a thing."

"Good."

The malaiki watched the shetani lay down another tile. "And that's the same twenty-four."

"I've got them all. That one's blue."

"Fine," muttered the malaiki. Several more tiles were laid down in silence, the only noise being the clicking of the tiles as they touched each other. The malaiki continued to glance at Nafsi, the cub simply lying on the floor, as if sleeping through everything.

"Fifty-five times, Fujo!" The malaiki turned to see Fujo quickly retreating back through the rectangle again. It was nearly impossible for a malaiki to feel annoyance, but this one was getting there.

"Your tiles," said the shetani.

"Great." The malaiki swept up its tiles and placed down another one. More tiles were placed and swept up. Suddenly the shetani stood up and launched a fireball of his paw, the flaming object just barely missing the malaiki's head. The malaiki heard a cry of pain and turned to see a lion on the floor, grasping at a burnt face in agony. It wasn't Fujo.

The malaiki rushed over to the lion and ran a paw over his face, healing it instantly. The malaiki gasped. "Sir!" he said to Taraju. "I'm very sorry about this—" The malaiki looked back at the shetani, only to see it sitting there, all of the tiles gone.

"What was that for?" demanded Taraju.

"That was me," said the shetani. "I'm tired of your brother sticking his head in here."

"Fujo knows he's not supposed to come in here."

"And he is coming in here. You should restrain your brother, sire," said the malaiki.

"He's very worried about Nafsi. He's his grandson, after all."

"Grandson or not, he still—"

That was the moment Fujo chose to run into the room straight at Nafsi. All three stared in surprise as he scooped up Nafsi in his jaws and headed for the only exit the room had. The shetani launched another fireball, grazing Fujo's mane. The malaiki flew at Fujo, just missing him before Fujo went through the portal, the rectangle closing immediately behind him.

"Oh, no," whispered the malaiki.

"You let him escape!" roared the shetani.

"No, I didn't, I swear!" protested the malaiki.

"My queen will not be happy with this!"

"No, don't—"

"She already knows! And you'd better find him!"

"He can't find Fujo," said Taraju. "No one can. He could have come from a million places. We don't have any idea where he is."

"He slipped right through your paws," hissed the shetani.

"But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is start looking." Taraju turned to the malaiki. "Dispatch every malaiki. Start combing Heaven. Fujo has to be found."

oOo

Fujo burst from the portal, closing it just behind him. He started running. Taraju had warned him that it was only a matter of minutes before he was found. He had to get out of here. He jumped through another portal. He couldn't go to any of his usual places; those would be the first ones checked, Taraju had said so.

His wild thoughts of where exactly he was going were cut off by a voice. "Put me down."

"Uh-uh," Fujo grunted. "'Ot 'et."

"_Put me down_."

Fujo ignored Nafsi's request and kept running. He suddenly found his two forelegs bound to the ground by black matter, stopping him dead. He nearly flipped over from the sudden stop.

"Put me down. _Now_."

Fujo dropped his grandson and found the bonds released immediately. He looked down at Nafsi.

"What are you doing?" asked Nafsi.

"I want to show you something."

"What?"

"A lot of stuff. Come on, we have to get out of here. Malaiki will be here any minute."

"Why should I come with you?"

Fujo was caught off-guard by the question. "Look, they haven't shown you everything. Just—trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Fujo obviously didn't realize the absurdity of his statement. He couldn't have touched Nafsi if Nafsi hadn't wanted it. "Alright," Nafsi said.

"Come on." Fujo opened another portal and led Nafsi through into more savannah. He looked nervously around, then opened another rectangle to reveal a dark night. "Now this is what I wanted to show you."

Nafsi walked through and found himself on a hill. The first thing he noticed was the moon in the sky, shining over the land below him. It seemed to be the only thing around, its luminosity surpassing everything else. He heard Fujo behind him say, "Wow."

"What?"

"It's—different than in Heaven. The moon. Beautiful. I'd forgotten it." He looked down at Nafsi, who was looking at him skeptically. "No, really, I'm not just saying that."

"It is beautiful," admitted Nafsi.

"And . . . how does that make you feel?" asked Fujo, somewhat afraid of how Nafsi might react.

"It doesn't," said Nafsi, continuing to stare at the moon.

"Sorry?"

"It doesn't make me feel anything. Grandma always did say that was . . . wrong." Nafsi turned to Fujo. "I suppose I'd call you Grandpa."

"If you want," said Fujo. Nafsi turned back to the moon. Fujo said hesitatingly, "I—I don't really understand your—feelings . . ."

"I have only the emotions that Mother felt was needed. Rage, of course, and lust, and—hunger, through that's almost the same as lust. Hunger for power. And efficiency is another one. And loneliness, though she didn't want that. And fear. She didn't want that, either."

"How . . . how about love?" Fujo asked.

"None."

"Happiness?"

"I feel pleasure. A little bit of emotion, but mainly physical pleasure from certain acts. A few of them I haven't tried yet, but I think I'd enjoy them. Like rape."

"_What?_"

Nafsi smiled. "Amusement, that's another one." He turned to Fujo. "Really, what is 'moral?' And 'right,' and 'good,' and 'true?' I don't know. Do you?"

"Well, rape certainly isn't right!"

"Why?"

Fujo was silent.

"Is it because it's something that hurts someone else? Grandma used to tell me some of the stories Pofu told before Jadi made him stop. And it seemed like love hurt more than anything else. It tore hearts apart when loved ones died, when they did certain acts, when they acted a certain way. So why is love good?"

"I—I don't know, Nafsi. It just is. Some things are right, and some things are wrong."

"But I want to know why. And I don't think I ever will. I think I need to feel—to experience—and I never will. I know why anger is bad; it destroys, but isn't it good? If used the right way? I killed dozens in anger. But if I'd controlled it, I would have caused that one wildebeest unimaginable pain. Would that have been better?"

"Nafsi, I don't philopho—philisopho—think."

"But I do. And I can't stop thinking. I want to know _why_. About _everything_. Why am I so lonely, for one? I don't understand friendship at all, but I want it. So bad. It got so bad in that white place. I couldn't think at all, not with all that loneliness. I felt so—abandoned. But why would I want someone? Should I want someone?"

"Nafsi, you're not the only one that feels that way. Everyone needs someone." Fujo paused. "Here, follow me." Fujo began walking, hearing Nafsi's paws rustling the grass behind him. _Rustling the grass_. Fujo's paws passed right through the grass, through everything. But somehow, Nafsi was solid. But how in the world—

_I don't think_. _I don't think_. _I don't think_.

Fujo wondered if she'd be out here tonight. Of all the nights to disappoint, this would be the worst. If she wasn't there, Fujo didn't know exactly what he would show Nafsi. But no, there she was, sitting by the lake. Fujo pointed out the little form to Nafsi.

"There she is. Sitting over there by the lake."

"Who is she."

"Her name's Esi. At least, that's what the malaiki said it was. I don't know how well they know names, though; you'd think they'd know my brother's name is Taraju and not 'sir.'" He looked down at Nafsi. "Humor's lost on you, isn't it?"

"Yes." Nafsi was still staring down at Esi. "Why did you want to show me her?"

"To . . . show you that you're not the only one. I know you think you are, but you're not."

"Only what?"

"Lonely animal."

"I don't think I am. I'm just—just the only one who _feels_ lonely. All the time."

"You may be right about that," said Fujo, the words feeling shameful for some strange reason. "You don't feel happy, do you?"

"No." Nafsi continued to stare. "Why is she out here alone at night? It's dangerous. Didn't her mother tell her that?"

"I'm sure she did. But her mother has been dead for a year."

"What about her father?"

"Nafsi, only royal rubs have a father. Esi was taken in by the king and queen, but they're not her parents."

"So she doesn't have any parents."

"Or any friends. The other cubs hate her. Partly because her mother is gone and they know no one will ever do anything to help her. The queen could care less about what happens to her. The cubs know they can do whatever they want. This is just her place to be alone from all of that. Just . . . just sitting. And staring into that lake. And one of these days . . . when she grows up enough . . . she'll finally just—break down. She won't be able to take it anymore. And that lake will have her body in it. I just hope it never comes to that in her mind."

"Death is a powerful thing," said Nafsi.

"Worse than loneliness?"

Nafsi stared down at Esi, then said quietly, "If I knew I'd be with the ones I considered friends . . . maybe if there was even a hope of that . . . yes, I would choose death over loneliness. Death isn't as bad as loneliness."

Fujo looked down at the little cub beside him. "You're still lonely right now, aren't you?"

"More than ever," said Nafsi so quietly that Fujo had to strain to hear it. "Even out of that white place, there aren't any friends on this side of life. Not for me." He looked up at Fujo. "Can I . . . talk to her?"

"It's against the rules," said Fujo. "It's one of the biggest." Nafsi turned back to Esi. Fujo watched the miserable little cubs for a few more seconds before saying, "Oh, what the hell. I've already dragged you out of Heaven; it's not like I can do much worse."

Fujo watched as Nafsi stood up and made is way down. He didn't know what Nafsi had in mind.

"Fujo."

Fujo jumped, then turned to see Taraju's smiling face. "Aiheu, Mano, and Afriti! Don't _do_ that!"

"Well, how's it going?"

"I don't know. It's your idea. Gods, I think I almost died again. What is it with you and speaking?"

"I'm just good at it."

"You're a jerk, that's what you're good at."

"Fujo," said Taraju, "she's dead."

"Who? You don't mean—"

Taraju nodded. Fujo laughed. "Oh, I can't believe it! After so long . . . gods, Taraju, this is wonderful."

"But you can't see her. Not until you bring _him_ back," said Taraju, pointing at Nafsi.

"Doesn't anyone ask nicely anymore? You could have just asked me to bring him back."

"They sent me to get you. They told me to say that, just for motivation."

"You could have just put me in one of those leg-locks of yours."

"They still don't know about my—evil side? Is that a good name for it?"

"Evil's such a string word."

"Dark side?"

"Yeah, dark side. Not too bad of a name. Mr. Complete and Total Wuss and Mr. Dark Side."

"I'm going to hit you one of these days, just for the fun of it," said Taraju.

"And I'm going to laugh, 'cause that'll only prove I'm right."

oOo

Nafsi made his way over to Esi. The closer he got, the more distinct her sobs became. He broke into the clearing to see her sitting next to the pool, tears dripping into the water. She suddenly stiffened, hearing Nafsi. "Go away!" she said. "Just leave me alone!" She turned around to see Nafsi and gasped. "Who're you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm Nafsi."

"What do _you_ want?" she asked, turning her tear-streaked face back to the lake.

"I just wanted to talk."

"Why? What do _you_ want with me? I don't even know you."

"I just wanted to know why you were crying."

"What do you care? What does anyone care?"

Nafsi watched ripples form as more tears hit the water of the lake. "But . . . I wanted to know . . ."

Esi whirled around, anger glinting in her tear-filled eyes. "Why would anyone want to know anything about me? You've got no idea what it's like to be just a joke, do you? Where no one takes you seriously, where no one even comes to look after you! My mother's dead. The queen could care less if I lived or died; she hated my mother! I don't have anyone who cares for me, anyone who even cares what my thoughts are! No one! And I doubt you have any idea what that's like!" she finished angrily.

Esi became conscious of the tears she was shedding and turned back to the lake. Nafsi was slightly taken aback; no one had ever talked to him like that before. Then again, no one had not known he was a prince, either. He went and sat next to Esi. "I know what it's like to not have friends," he said quietly. "How the loneliness eats away at you. And you want to try to make friends, but you can't. They don't want you. And it's just so . . ."

"Frustrating."

Nafsi looked up at Esi. She was staring at him. "Yes."

"You don't have any friends, either?"

Nafsi looked down at the lake. "Not anymore. I had one, maybe two. But . . . someone died. That changed everything."

"And you lost them?"

"Yes. I don't think I have any friends, now."

"I'm sorry," said Esi. She hesitated. "I—I'd like to have a friend."

Nafsi looked up at her. "Me, too."

Esi smiled a little. "Do you—do you know how to play hide-'n'-go-seek?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to?"

"Sure." Nafsi stood up with Esi. "Do you want to be it?"

"You can be," she said. She smiled at Nafsi, then ran off into the grass.

Nafsi began to slowly count to fifty, closing his eyes. He finally opened them and began to go quietly through the grass. The game suddenly called up all sorts of memories of his killing lessons with Akasare. About how you wanted the element of surprise, and you had to strain your senses for the slightest sign of your prey, and how you must stalk them _quietly_, above all else.

But this was a _game_, he reminded himself. It almost seemed wrong to think this way in this setting.

He searched through the savannah, looking in every nook and cranny, and finally found her finding in the hollow underneath the roots of an acacia. He stuck his head in the hole and grinned. He nearly stopped grinning as he remembered his grandmother telling him she didn't want him to smile if he wasn't happy, because that was like a lie. But wouldn't it be better to lie? At least for now? It made Esi happy.

"Found you," he said.

Esi scrambled out of the hollow. "My turn!" she said happily. She turned to face the tree and began counting. Nafsi ran into the savannah, trying to find a place to hide. The game didn't make him happy. It all seemed rather pointless. But Esi enjoyed it. His friend liked it.

A few more games were played. Each of them was found more quickly every time. Esi finally rounded a corner where she was sure Nafsi had to be. She crept around and yelled out happily "Found—" She gave a squeal of alarm, seeing the lion behind Nafsi.

Fujo smiled. "Hello, Esi."

"H-hello."

"I'm sorry, but Nafsi has to come home now."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"He's my grandfather," said Nafsi.

"And I need to get him back home," said Fujo.

Esi's face fell. But they'd been having so much fun . . . "Alright," she said sadly.

Fujo headed out past her. Nafsi said," You're my friend, right?"

"Yeah," said Esi. "And you're mine?"

"Yes." Nafsi smiled. "It was nice to meet you, Esi." He headed out after Fujo, rounding the same corner as his grandfather.

Esi ran after him. "It was nice to meet you, too—" She stopped. They were gone, both of them. She didn't understand. It was like they had just disappeared through a hole in the air.

oOo

"I want to thank you for coming back, Nafsi," said Taraju as Nafsi stepped through the rectangle. "You saved us a lot of trouble. I can take you back to your room—"

"I'm not going back there," said Nafsi.

Taraju was taken aback by the forcefulness of the statement. "Nafsi, as soon as you choose where you want to go, you won't have to stay there."

"I'm not going back there. Why do you think I let Grandpa carry me out of there? I hate that place, and I'm never going back."

"We don't have anywhere else to put you—"

"You aren't putting me anywhere."

Taraju was suddenly uneasy. He was here in the savannah, alone from everyone except Fujo and Nafsi. No malaiki had been involved as a sign of trust. "Nafsi, we just need you to go back in." Taraju opened up a portal.

Nafsi backed away from the stark white rectangle. That was the worst thing in his mind. He couldn't go back to that prison, not after this sweet taste of freedom. "You told me everybody runs when they're being hunted."

"Nafsi, that was Akasare, not me."

"Everybody runs from what they're scared of."

"Nafsi, I promise you this isn't something you need to be afraid of. If you'll just stop backing away and come into the room—"

"Everybody runs."

"Nafsi, please—"

Nafsi turned around and sprinted off into the savannah. Taraju hung his head and cursed. "Malaiki," he said.

A malaiki appeared. "Yes, sir?"

"Catch him."

"Yes, sir." Taraju could feel the air as the malaiki lifted off, its wings beating to get airborne. Others appeared, all of them heading after Nafsi.

Taraju turned to Fujo. "You've got a long time ahead of you in Purgatory for this."

"Yeah, well, it was worth it," said Fujo. "Maybe he'll see now."

"Maybe. You want to see her now?"

"Lead the way."

oOo

Nafsi ran a quickly as his little cub body would let him. He came to a stop as a malaiki dropped down in front of him.

"Sir—"

The rest of the malaiki's words were cut off as a black spike punctured his throat. The malaiki collapsed and Nafsi kept running. He had no idea where he was running to, other than it was way away from that awful white place. He saw an alarmed group of cheetahs stare at him as he rushed by. He looked over his shoulder to see more malaiki flying behind him, rapidly catching up.

_Run_.

Malaiki began to fall to the ground as spikes punctured them or their wings. Those that fell didn't get up, instead sinking into pools of black matter. They couldn't be allowed to get up. He couldn't go back to that white place, shut off from everything. He couldn't.

Portals began to open up, malaiki pouring out of them. Spikes flew up, matter swallowed, black cords pinned and strangled. Anything to keep them away.

A black rectangle opened up in front of Nafsi, too suddenly for him to stop. He ran through it, the rectangle closing behind him, leaving Nafsi in total darkness. He could see nothing, feel nothing. Not even the ground felt like it was there. Everything was black, like he had stumbled into one of those pools he had created. It was even worse than the white room. He felt so alone. He wanted a friend more than he ever had, like Grandma, or Uwivu—

Moving images suddenly appeared in front of him in the air. He approached them, staring in wonder at what he was seeing. Nafsi stared in surprise as he watched himself being given a bath by his grandmother.

Abruptly Taabu stopped grooming. "Well, it's just not right."

Nafsi watched as he asked, remembering the words perfectly, "What do you mean?"

"He does teach you some of the right things, but it's just twisted. You're supposed to respect the kingdom, not look down upon it. Didn't I tell you not to put too much trust in what your father teaches you?"

"Well, yeah, but . . . he seems to really believe it."

"No doubt," said Nafsi's grandmother as she began to groom him again.

"I mean, it seems right, what he says. If someone hurts you, you hurt them. It makes sense. And you need to let them know what fear is, otherwise they won't respect you. You need to show them why they should respect the king."

"Taabu, will you shut him up?" Suddenly, Nafsi's view of himself swung wildly and was placed on the ground, looking away from him completely, instead at Taabu's side. "Some of us are still trying to sleep."

"Uzuri, can't you hear—"

Sound was suddenly cut off and Taabu began moving at an unimaginable speed, the rest of the den moving with her. Nafsi's eyes felt blurred as they watched the images in front of him. He couldn't see what was going on perfectly clearly; it was moving too quickly. The view also had a tendency to swing rapidly, bringing other animals and sights into view. The speed did slow sometimes, but would speed back up. Nafsi felt as through he had not control at all as he stared up at the images, entranced.

Abruptly the view slowed to normal speed. The view went black, as it had several times before, and Nafsi heard the words, "I love you, Mommy," in union with a deep purring.

"I love you, too, honey."

The view suddenly became clear again, shifting upward to look at a lioness Nafsi remembered, Tumai. "Uwivu, honey . . . please don't do anything that would get you in trouble."

"Alright, Mommy," said the voice Nafsi now realized to be Uwivu's. It was reluctant, and small. Nafsi hadn't remembered Uwivu's voice sounding like that in years.

"Okay, one more hug, and time to sleep. You're sister's already snoring." The view went black again, and Nafsi felt a warm rush of—of something wonderful flow through him. "Ow," said Tumai quietly. "Careful, that's still open."

The eyes opened to see a paw held up, blood on it. The view suddenly moved to Tumai's shoulder, seeing an open wound. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"It's okay. Let's just get that paw washed off, then you can go to sleep—"

The view sped up again.

The view was with a group of cubs, laughing. Nafsi smiled, feeling a warm glow, a different kind than before. The view suddenly turned to see a cub in the grass, almost fully concealed, save for his ears that stuck out plainly.

"Whatcha looking at, Uwivu?"

"Nothing." The view spun back around. "Just—"

The view sped up again.

"What?"

Nafsi saw himself say quietly, "I brought flowers." Black, dead-looking flowers sprang up from where he drew his paw. Nafsi looked back up at Uwivu, hoping for approval.

"They're disgusting."

The view sped up again.

The black flowers opening in the moonlight, showing all their petals.

". . . Beautiful."

The view sped up again.

"What do you want?"

Nafsi saw himself say quietly, head low, "I—I thought you might want some of mine." He nodded his head toward the carcass behind him. "I'm not that hungry, and I know your mother had her food cut off, so I just thought . . ."

"Fine. We'll take it." Nafsi found himself hating the bitter way the words came out. The view moved over to the carcass, then began to move backward with the carcass. Nafsi could hear himself moving away. The view moved to see Nafsi walking toward his grandmother, and felt a powerful wave of sadness wash over him, combined with something he'd never felt. Then the view moved back to the carcass and began dragging it again.

The view sped up.

Nafsi heard weeping, and felt a wave of disgust that he didn't understand; disgust for himself. The view turned to see Nafsi through the grass, crying quietly. The view turned away and moved forward.

The view sped up.

"No, Jadi, please! I'm begging you!" Nafsi felt fear wash over him, mingled with despair. He saw his father's paw reaching toward his face, and felt Jadi's touch as he caressed him.

"You will be mine, Uwivu."

"Please, Jadi, I'm only three!"

"Old enough to be in heat, obviously." Jadi grinned evilly.

"Please, I don't want this! Just let me go! I'm begging you!"

Nafsi felt his father lick his face, his touch consumed by lust. "You will be mine," Jadi whispered. He moved out of view. "It'd be much more pleasant if you lied down."

"Jadi, please—"

Nafsi felt himself being forced down. He could feel his father's heavy breathing on the back of his neck. "Now," breathed Jadi, his voice filled with lust. Nafsi felt horrible pain and let out a scream with Uwivu, stopping it quickly as he heard his voice go on. The pain continued as Jadi raped her, only lessening, but not leaving, after he exited her. Sadness and grief overwhelmed him as Uwivu laid her head down, the vision blurred by tears.

The view sped up.

A sudden tremor shook the ground, the view being jarred horribly by it. The view swung wildly about. "What _was_ that?"

The view sped up.

_And my parents_ . . . _they'll just die when I grow up_. . . . _They can't live without it_.

A feeling of horrible realization and terror gripped Nafsi. None of the other visions had been this real. He could feel everything. He ran out of the den, barely able to feel his paws hitting the ground. He didn't know what he wanted, only that he had to get to the spire as quickly as he possibly could. Horrible images flew through his head.

_Please don't be a monster, Nafsi_. _Gods, please, don't be that cruel to him_. _Not now_ . . .

He ran up to the spire and stopped as he saw the wall of rocks. No matter how much he had pounded on them before, they hadn't budged an inch. It was almost as if Nafsi didn't want him to see the thing he had become. _Gods, please_—

"Uwivu!" he heard a voice behind him yell. Chungu, his sister, ran up behind him. "What is your problem?"

"Nafsi's in there!"

"Since when have you cared about him?"

"Just please help me move these rocks," he begged. "Please. We have to get him out."

"Just leave him. He's more use to us in there."

Nafsi turned with a yell and swung his paw as hard as he could at the rocks. His paw reduced the wall to rubble effortlessly; whatever force had been holding it up was gone. He stuck his head in, peering through the dust. "Nafsi!" he yelled. He saw his body on the ground, obviously weak and frail. Panic rushed through him as he ran to his side. "Nafsi . . . oh, please don't die. Not now." _Not after all this_ . . .

"I . . . knew you . . . liked me."

The words shocked him. Had he really been that transparent? Despite all his efforts to reject him, to make him feel lower than anything, did he really manage to tell him, even just a little, that she wanted to love him? "Nafsi . . . don't go . . ."

The little cub on the ground lifted up a shaking foreleg, as if trying to reach Nafsi's face. "Friend," the little cub said, the word barely audible.

Nafsi reached for the paw, but before he could touch it, it began to unravel into small black shards that split themselves over and over, until they disappeared completely. The effect spread across the cub's body rapidly, the cub's last expression one of pain. Finally the cub was completely gone.

"Nafsi . . . friend . . ." Nafsi felt a horrible, horrible sensation of loss. Tears slid down his face. "Oh, god, why?" he whispered. "Why, Nafsi?"

"Uwivu, why are you crying?" said Chungu from outside the cave. "It's just Nafsi."

"Shut up!" yelled Nafsi. He spun around angrily. "How can you even say that?!"

"Uwivu—"

Nafsi stormed angrily past her, then ran across the savannah, tears blurring his vision until finally nothing was visible, and the view faded to black.

Nafsi suddenly realized his face was wet—his face, not Uwivu's. He wiped a paw against it, then held it out to stare at the tears. It seemed so long since he last cried. And those other feelings . . . they were something wonderful. If that was something Uchu had taken away from him . . . he didn't know what he could do to her that would seem to do justice. He didn't understand them at all.

_Maybe_ . . . _Maybe you don't need to understand everything_.

"What did you think?"

Nafsi turned around to see Taabu, his grandmother, standing behind him. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find her here. "I hate the ending myself," he said. "But it started with an alright scene."

"I walked in in the middle," she said. She smiled, then held out a paw toward Nafsi as she sat down. Nafsi ran over to her and hugged her stomach tightly, loving the warm embrace that made the loneliness ebb away.

"I missed you so much, Grandma," said Nafsi.

"I missed you, too, Nafsi," said Taabu gently, rubbing his back.

"How did you get here?"

"I died. They said . . ." Taabu struggled to remember the exact words. "They said your mother cracked a—rib, and I rolled over and punctured a—lung in my sleep. Whatever a rib and a lung are." Taabu smiled. "It was a good way to go. It didn't hurt too much."

"It hurt so much for me," said Nafsi. "And I've been so alone." He stepped away from his grandmother, looking up. "Are we really dead?"

Taabu nodded. "Yes, Nafsi."

"I never wanted to die . . ." Nafsi turned back around to look at the empty abyss he stood in, the only visible things being him and Taabu. "What is this place?"

"It's where you can view memories of an animal. Were those Uwivu's?"

"Yes. But three were only a few memories . . ."

"Different animals see different things. There were dozens, Nafsi, dozens of dozens that I saw. You've been in here for days."

"But . . . but it was like . . . minutes . . ."

"You'd been in here two days by the time I came in. I don't know how long it's been."

"Why did you come?"

Taabu's smile slid off her face. "Nafsi . . . I'm here to take you back."

"No!" yelled Nafsi, backing away.

"Nafsi, please, we just want you to decide."

"You're going to put me in that white place again! I won't go!"

"Nafsi, I'm begging you, just come quietly."

"No!"

Taabu fell silent. She stared at him, unsure of what to do. "Nafsi, please, just remember what you felt in here. That happy feeling. You can have that back. And that love, and that hope, and . . . and you can be with _me_ again. Nafsi, don't you want all that back?"

Nafsi stared at her. Finally he said, "I don't know." He sighed. "I need to think."

Taabu nodded. "We've got all the time in the world."

oOo

"We demand that he come with us!" snarled Afriti.

"You can't control him any more than we can," said Aiheu reasonably, the rest of the gods nodding with him in assent.

"Obviously you can! He disappears, he's been gone for a week, and yet you say you know where he is!"

"He's deciding," said Fela.

"I know his grandmother is with him," said Afriti angrily. "Do you think _that_ won't influence his judgment?"

"Nafsi will decide what he wants," said Fela. "We had no choice but to put his grandmother with him. He was scared out of his wits. And I don't think either of us wants him damaged."

"You had no right to do any of this!" hissed the sleek-furred cheetah behind Afriti. "You let him escape, and now he's firmly in your control!"

"We don't know when he'll come out of the Hall of Memories," said Mano.

"You left him in _there?_" Afriti was even angrier. "He could be influenced by countless lives!"

"He doesn't want to look through others lives," said Aiheu. "He's concerned with his own life. He is purely selfish. As for the one who let him escape, he is in Purgatory. He's not leaving any time soon, nor will he be given the opportunity to join the Black Line."

"I want you to let out Grandpa."

All heads turned to look at Nafsi walking toward them, a malaiki behind him. "He asked to see you, sirs and ma'ams," said the malaiki.

"Nafsi, your grandfather did a very wrong thing," said Aiheu. "He is—"

"I want you to let him out," said Nafsi. "Now. And I want to go back to life."

There were cries of protest on both sides. "That wasn't an option," said Afriti angrily.

"It's my option."

"You can't go back to life," said Aiheu.

"Fine," said Nafsi. Suddenly, at the neck of every god and anti-god, there was a disfigured, two-legged creature, somewhat resembling a primate, all of them jet-black. Instead of hands, they had stubs which had a hole in the middle where a long, thin, flat, black shaft was inserted, its sides sharp and dangerous. Every creature had a shaft in each hand, both of them crossed in front of the neck of the deity it was in front of.

"If I don't go," said Nafsi, "you all die."

"Nafsi," said Aiheu, moving slightly. The shafts were pressed firmly against his neck.

"Get Grandpa out. _Now_."

Aiheu hesitated a moment before saying, "Malaiki."

"Sir," said the malaiki behind Nafsi.

"See to Fujo's release."

"Yes, sir," said the malaiki. It left.

"You're going to let me go back to life," said Nafsi to the silent crowd. "You aren't going to punish anyone for anything that has happened here because of me. You're going to give me all of my emotions. And you're not going to overlook _anything_."

"Nafsi," said Fela, "we're not sure if you can have them."

"You promised. You're going to do it."

"You don't need any of those weak emotions," said Afriti.

"I want them. And there's nothing you can do to stop me from being whole."

"Whole?" said Afriti. She laughed. "You'll _never_ be whole! You're nothing! Only a shadow!"

Nafsi walked over to her, the creature in front of her stepping back. A shaft appeared in front of Nafsi, pure black, and much more ornate than the crude ones the creatures had. It was pressed firmly against Afriti's neck, levitating in midair.

"I've had enough," said Nafsi. "You're leaving. Right now. All of you." Afriti glared down at him. Every creature in front of her allies stepped back. "Get out." Afriti snarled and left through the portal behind the malaiki that had accompanied Nafsi inside, the rest of her kind following her.

After the last one left, Aiheu said, "Nafsi—"

"And you're going to give me my emotions. Right now."

"We can't do it here."

"Fine. But I will not wait."

"Of course," said Aiheu. The creatures backed away, lowering their weapons. "Just—follow me."

oOo

Nafsi lay down on the pedestal. His legs were bound as they had been before. He looked up at Aiheu. "What now?"

"We'll need to make you unconscious."

"No."

"Nafsi, it will be painful. The only thing holding you in place is those bonds, and you've broken free of those before."

"I don't trust you. The very last thing I'm going to do is let you stick your paw in my head when I'm asleep."

Aiheu sighed. "Very well. But you must not struggle. Not at all."

Nafsi nodded. "Alright."

He saw a malaiki appear above him, talking to Aiheu. "Sir, we're ready."

Aiheu nodded. "Start."

The malaiki reached toward Nafsi's head. Nafsi felt blinding pain. Then all sight was cut off. Everything went black.

"You'll be fine, Nafsi," he heard. "Just fine."

Esi stared down into the pool. She should have known he wouldn't have come back. She wasn't even sure he existed, almost. He had simply disappeared. She wondered if she was going crazy, if she hadn't just imagined the whole thing.

"Hi, Esi."

Esi turned around to see him behind her. "Nafsi!" she said happily. She leapt at him and tackled hi to the ground, hugging him. "I thought you'd never come back!"

"I said I would," reminded Nafsi.

"Do you want to play again?" asked Esi excitedly.

"I—actually, I needed to ask you something. I—I was wondering if I could stay with you."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah."

"That'd be great!" said Esi happily. "But what about your grandpa?"

"Oh, he's dead."

"Nafsi—that's awful! I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"I'm sure the king and queen'll let you in. They can be really nice. Come on, I'll show you the den."

Nafsi began to follow her, smiling happily.


End file.
